Crashing Down
by Dulcineah
Summary: My first Rentfic. Follows Mimi from when she left home to when she meets Angel in the tunnel. ** 12/13/02--COMPLETE**
1. Default Chapter

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Author's Notes:

This is my first Rentfic. *looks around nervously* My only experience with writing for these characters is being Lola's evil beta reader. It's a lot easier to come up with ideas than it is to inflict them on my characters, I've found out. This is a pre-Rent fic, about Mimi mostly, although Angel will play a significant role in it later on. 

Jonai was nice enough to beta the first few parts of this, eons ago, so thank you, Jonai. And thank you, Danielle, for pushing me to write this, over my objections that it sucked too much to be posted. 

The characters aren't mine, I just rented them from Jonathan Larson for ten bucks a chapter. Constructive criticism is welcome, but be gentle with the flames, please. Also, reviews! Please?

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Crashing Down

by Dulcey

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You were flying high on your ego cloud

With a diamond stuck to your paper crown

What a drag it is to come crashing down

--Daphne Rubin-Vega, "Broken"

"You've tested positive for the HIV virus. I'm sorry." The doctor looked at me sympathetically. Two little sentences, but they spelled out the end for me. I was seventeen years old, and I was dying.

"How long do I have?" I whispered, trying to control the shaking in my voice.

The doctor shrugged. "If you take care of yourself, you could have quite a few healthy years ahead of you."

"How many is 'a few'?" I demanded. "Two years? Ten? Twenty?"

"I'm afraid I can't say," the doctor replied. "I'm sorry." 

I went home, and didn't come out for two months. The AZT the clinic had given me sat unopened on the counter. They had also sent a pamplet on AIDS support groups. I hadn't bothered to read it. Why should I? I could sit and listen to a million sob stories about how AIDS had changed their lives. It wouldn't change anything for me. 

I spent days at a time in bed, getting up only to go to the bathroom, or grab an occasional snack from my ever-diminishing food supply. At first, my girlfriends from the Cat Scratch Club came to visit, bringing food and trying to cheer me up. As the weeks went by, their visits became less and less frequent. I couldn't blame them. They had enough troubles of their own.

I never heard anything from Eddie.

Was it really just two years ago that I'd been safe at home in New Jersey? I was the youngest out of four children, and the wildest out of the lot. My brothers Santos and Jose worked part-time jobs after school and managed to put themselves through college. My sister Maria got married when she was seventeen, and had two little boys of her own the last I heard. 

I was the one who got caught smoking in the girls room in sixth grade, and brought home C's and D's while my siblings made the honor roll. The only one who could control me was my father. My mother could scream and cry, my brothers could lecture me on disgracing the family name, and it didn't affect me at all. But when my father looked at me sadly and said "Mimi chica, how could you do this to me?" it made me want to cry, and promise to be a better daughter.

He got sick when I was fourteen, and went to see the doctor. The doctor told he had lung cancer, from twenty years worth of smoking his pipe. Papa died three months later.

I ran away six weeks after that. The one part of school I had enjoyed had been theatre class, and I thought that if I went to New York, I could be an actress. I hadn't thought about how difficult it would be, and two months after I'd arrived, my money had run out. 

Elena, my next door neighbor, was the one who told me about the Cat Scratch Club. "Robbie's the owner, and he's kind of an ass, but you get good tips," she told me, leaning against her door and smoking a cigarette. "If you know how to deal with drunk guys hitting on you, you'll do just fine."

"I don't know," I said doubtfully. I hadn't come to New York to dance in a sleazy nightclub. On the other hand, I needed money, badly.

"Look, why don't you come down with me tonight?" Elena offered. "You're really pretty, and I'm sure Robbie would give you a tryout. If you like it, you can stay, if not, no harm done."

"All right," I gave in. "I'll give it a try."

As it turned out, all the smoke made me cough, and the guys in the front tables kept trying to grab my feet as I danced. But I made sixty dollars that night, so I told Robbie that I'd take the job.

I'd been at the Cat Scratch Club for almost six months when I met Eddie. I'd seen him from the stage as I danced, a tall, dark-haired man with eyes that seemed to bore right in to me. Because I was in a good mood, I smiled and blew him a kiss during my number. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but when I came offstage, there he was, waiting with Robbie.

"Mimi, this is Edward Martinez," Robbie introduced us. "He'd like to talk to you." He pulled me closer and hissed "Keep it short. I'm not paying you to talk."

Edward held out his hand. "I enjoyed your performance."

"Thank you, Mr. Stephens." I shook his hand, not knowing what else to say.

"Please, call me Eddie," he said. "You're an extraordinarily beautiful young woman. "Have you ever considered acting?"

I laughed bitterly. "Of course, but between starving as an actress, and eating as a stripper, I'd rather eat."

"You need someone who knows the ropes of the acting business," Eddie told me. "Unfortunately, these days talent isn't enough to get your career started."

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused. "If you're better than everyone else who auditions, you should get the part."

Eddie smiled at me, in a way that made me shiver. I didn't like it at all. "Mimi, how old are you?"

"Eighteen," I lied.

"You're just a child," he said, making me feel like I was about two years old. "You don't know how the real world works."

"What do you want?" I snapped, sick of the whole conversation. 

He laughed softly. "You've got spirit. I like that."

"I'm up in two minutes," I said shortly, starting to brush past him.

Eddie caught my arm and turned me around to face him again. "A friend of mine is a producer for a new Broadway musical. He still hasn't cast his female lead, and from what I've seen tonight, you would be perfect for the part."

I looked at him skeptically. "So you could get me an audition?"

Eddie nodded, and put a hand on my shoulder. "That's right."

"What's in it for you?" After two months in New York, I'd learned that nothing came without its price.

"I get a percentage of the profits. And,"--his hand slid down my back as he pulled me to him until our faces were inches apart--"I'm sure we can come up with some sort of arrangement."

His breath was warm and sticky on my face. I looked out on to the stage, where Katya was dancing. She was twenty-nine, and had been at the Cat Scratch club since it opened. When she wasn't dancing, she looked old and tired, and I'd promised myself that I wouldn't be like her. I wasn't going to let myself get trapped here like she had. I was Mimi Marquez, and I was determined to do more with my life than dance in the same smoky nightclub night after night.

I turned back to Eddie, who was watching me expectantly. "All right," I whispered. "I'll do it."

**************

The next four months was a flurry of parties and people. Eddie introduced me to his friends, who introduced me to acquaintances of theirs, who introduced me to still more people they knew. I auditioned for producers and assistant directors and everyone else Eddie told me I should perform for. Whenever I went to dance for someone new, Eddie had me wear the tight-fitting outfit I used for the Cat Scratch Club. "You've gotta stand out," he told me time and time again. "I hate to tell you, kid, but sometimes a nice ass is the difference between getting the part or going home empty handed."

I started sleeping with Eddie two weeks after we met at the Cat Scratch Club, and at his urging, with anyone he said could help me get my career off the ground. It wasn't new for me. I hadn't been a virgin since that day when I was thirteen when Brian Chissolm invited me to his place after school. I'd been with my share of men, back in New Jersey and here in New York. Besides, a stripper was only a step up from a hooker, Eddie kept reminding me. It wasn't like fucking a practical stranger was a huge stretch for me.

No, sex was nothing new to me. Although--I only let myself think this on those rare nights when I went to bed alone--it never seemed so dirty before.

Finally, the day came when Eddie came home, grabbed me in a bear hug, and spun me around before he announced that he'd just met with the director, and I had the part. "You're gonna be a star, kid!" he announced gleefully, his breath sweet with booze. Obviously he had been celebrating for some time already. "You're gonna be a goddamn Broadway star!"

The rest of the night was spent in a blissful haze of alcohol and sex. When I woke the next morning, the bed was empty. Eddie's razor had disappeared from the bathroom, and his clothes from my closet. In fact, there was no sign that he had ever been there at all.

I got dressed and took the subway uptown to the theatre. I'd never actually been there, but according to Eddie, I was supposed to start rehearsals the following week. The woman there had no idea who I was.

"Mimi Marquez?" she asked, squinting through her bifocals at a list in front of her. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I don't see your name anywhere."

"But I'm the new Sophia!" I insisted. "My manager told me I'd gotten the part!"

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "That role was cast two weeks ago."

My breath caught in my throat. My heart began pounding. "No. No, that can't be right. There has to be a mistake. My manager said that he talked to the director, and that I'd gotten the part of Sophia."

The woman sighed impatiently. "And exactly who is your manager?" she snapped, making it clear she was losing patience with me.

"Eddie Martinez," I whispered. 

"Eddie Martinez." She showed no sign of comprehension. "I've never heard that name before in my life. Now if you please, I have a lot of work to do, and I don't have time to waste with chit-chat."

I whispered an apology and left, hunching my coat up to my ears and hurrying home. I'd go to bed, and when I woke up, this whole thing would have been a dream. This couldn't be happening to me. It wasn't fair. I'd done everything Eddie told me to do. I'd sung my heart out for directors. Gave them blow jobs at parties while their wives were busy comparing vacuum brands.

Maybe that was it. Maybe God was punishing me for everything I'd done in the last year. For running away from home, and dancing in a seedy nightclub for money, and screwing men when I didn't even know their last names. I'd burn in hell for what I'd done, but I was also being punished in this lifetime. Everything I'd dreamt of was over. I'd never be on Broadway now. Things couldn't be worse than they were at this very moment.

Except they could. 

Three months later, I noticed a series of ugly bruises on my left thigh. No big deal, I figured. I'd probably hit my leg on the chair while I was dancing, and forgotten all about it. Then bruises appeared on my upper arms, and my neck. Okay, maybe I had some problem with blood circulation. It wasn't like I'd been eating properly, or much at all. 

"Mimi, what's that?" Tina asked, pointing at a particularly large, ugly bruise on my upper thigh. I'd just come off the dance floor, I was hot, sweaty, tired, and in no mood to answer the same stupid question everyone had been asking me for the last two weeks.

"Aren't you up?" I mumbled. "The guys are waiting."

"Have you had a doctor look at that?" she continued. "It might be something serious."

Out in the club, the guys were beginning to holler. "They're getting antsy out there," I continued. "You're going to have a mob out there if you don't hurry up."

She sighed. "Mimi, I'm serious. My boyfriend's friend had bruising like that, and when he went in to have it checked, it turned out he had AIDS." 

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, right. I'm not gay, Tina. I couldn't have AIDS."

"Mike wasn't gay either!" she insisted. "I'm just saying that you should get tested."

"Yeah, whatever," I scoffed. "Robbie's going to be mad if you don't get out there right now."

I spun around on my heel and marched off, feeling triumphant and...a bit uneasy. I changed into my street clothes and walked home. It was a quiet night, which I would have loved, normally, but tonight, I kept hearing Tina's words echo in my head.

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When he went in to have it checked, it turned out he had AIDS. 

I'm just saying that you should get tested.

This was ridiculous. I was seventeen years old. There was no way I could have AIDS. Things like this just didn't happen to people my age.

********

The bruising didn't go away. In fact, it got worse. I also came down with a nasty cold, which I attributed to working too late one night when I hadn't gotten enough sleep. I tried to tell myself that it was just a bug going around, that everyone had the flu in the winter. Except I'd never remembered being sick like this. 

I stayed all day in bed, alternately shivering beneath a pile of blankets, and weakly stumbling across the room to open the window and let the cold air in. Orange juice stayed down, but I wasn't so lucky with solid food. At six o'clock, I crawled out of bed to the phone and picked up the receiver. I wasn't looking forward to this. Robbie wasn't very understanding about anyone missing work. At best, I'd be docked two night's pay. At worst, he might send one of his friends over to my place to drag me into work anyhow. 

"Cat Scratch Club, this is Tina," the voice on the other end answered. Oh thank God. 

"It's Mimi," I croaked weakly. "Can you tell Robbie I'm sick and I can't make it tonight?"

"Mimi, are you all right?" she asked in concern. "You sound terrible!"

"It's just--" I broke off and began coughing, a huge, hacking cough that felt like I was expelling every bit of oxygen left in my lungs. "Just the flu," I finished.

"Are you sure?" she pressed. "You know, Mimi--"

"I don't have AIDS!" I insisted. "I don't have it and I'm not going to get tested for it!"

"Just think about it, okay?" Tina pleaded. "Please, Mimi. If you don't have it, wouldn't you want to know?"

"I guess..." I whimpered. "Can you just tell Robbie I won't be in tonight?"

"If I do, will you get tested?" Damn. She never gave up.

I sighed loudly. "Oh, all right. I'll take the damn test, okay?"

"Deal." She paused for a moment. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"Fine, fine." The room was starting to spin again. I was shaking from yet another cold spell. "You make the appointment. I'll go."

"You're doing a really good thing, Mimi," Tina told me. "I'm sure it'll all be fine."

"Yeah, okay." I reached over for a blanket, and fell short by about six inches. "Talk to you later."

"I'll call you when I've got an appointment set up," she promised. "Take care of yourself, Mimi."

I hung up the phone and crawled back into bed. I had a comforter and three blankets piled on top of me, but I couldn't stop shaking.

It was just the flu, I told myself. There was nothing wrong with me.


	2. 2

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Author's Notes:

I can't seem to decide whether I'm proud of this story, or if I'm fighting a losing battle with this one. I'll give it a couple more chapters. Maybe you guys can help me decide. Comments?

Also, I've fudged the timeline a bit in this story. I know Roger and April got AIDS seven months before Christmas, but in my version, it happens about a little over a year before instead. Okay? Okay.

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By the following Tuesday, I was feeling strong enough to get dressed and go to work. I was still coughing, my throat felt raw and sore, and it hurt to talk. But I could stand up without feeling dizzy, and I didn't have enough money to cover my rent for the next month. Not to mention that the longer you missed work, the more impossible Robbie became to deal with. Better to get back sooner than later.

Tina was putting on her makeup when I came in the back entrance. I hung up my coat and tried to slip past before she noticed me, but as luck had it, she caught sight of my reflection in the mirror and whirled around before I had a chance to escape.

"Mimi, hi!" she greeted me, jumping up from her chair and putting an arm around my shoulders. "How are you feeling?"

I backed away slightly. "Still sick," I tried to explain. "I don't want you to get sick too."

"Of course," she agreed. "Listen, Mimi, I called the clinic, and your appointment is set up for tomorrow afternoon."

"Tomorrow afternoon?" I repeated. "That's so...soon."

"I thought you'd rather get this over with as soon as possible," she explained. 

She was right about that. I'd done nothing but fret over whether I actually could have AIDS for the last week, when I wasn't preoccupied with sleeping or throwing up. "You're right," I agreed. "Although I have a feeling you also didn't want to give me time to back out."

"Okay, I was a little worried about that," Tina confessed. "But it'll be over before you know it. I'll be right there with you the whole time. Honestly, there's nothing to it."

How could she say that so calmly? It might be over for her, yes. She'd have done her duty, brought her friend in for medical help, saved the community of Alphabet City from yet another undiagnosed AIDS patient wandering around spreading disease. Tina would be safe. My future boyfriends would be safe.

But I wouldn't.

I would never feel safe again.

***************

True to her word, Tina came by the next afternoon to collect me for my appointment. We took the subway uptown to the clinic, which Tina promised me was completely anonymous, and wouldn't care if I was under eighteen. We sat together in the waiting room, flipping through magazines of beaming supermodels modeling the latest fashions. The receptionist called my name, and I followed the nurse into a tiny examining room, where she pricked my arm and took a blood sample. She said to come back in two weeks for the results. I nodded dully, barely able to hear her over the roaring in my ears. 

Tina took me home. I crawled back into bed and yanked the covers over my head. My arm still hurt from where the blood was drawn.

I returned to the clinic two weeks later, by myself this time. If the test was negative, I'd have plenty of time to tell Tina. And if it was positive...it couldn't be. It just couldn't. I repeated this over and over in my mind, holding on to a desperate hope that if I said it enough, it would come true.

The waiting room was the same as I remembered it. The magazines were the same as well. I grabbed one at random, although I knew I wasn't in any shape to read at this point in time. I could look at pictures, though, and I found that if I stared at them enough, I could briefly block out where I was, and what I was waiting for.

A bald man sported a milk mustache. A little girl with a blonde ponytail hugged a golden retriever puppy. A man and woman smiled at each other across a table, clinking their champagne glasses together.

Would I ever have all that? Would I get married, and have a husband who adored me? Who gave me butterflies in my stomach every time he smiled at me, even after twenty years of marriage? Would I have children who called me Mama and presented me with crayon drawings on Mother's Day? Maybe I'd get out of the city. Maybe my husband and I would find a little farm in the country, and raise children and chickens at the same time.

Or maybe I would die of AIDS, with a lifetime yet to live.

I heard a sniffle and bit sharply on my lip. I wasn't going to cry, I instructed myself. Not now. Not here. Not until I was safe at home, with the door bolted behind me, and no one to see my tears.

Another sniffle followed, and I realized that they weren't coming from me, but from the girl sitting across from me. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, and her face was desperately fighting against an onslaught of tears. She was young too, maybe nineteen or twenty, and the more I looked at her, the more familiar she seemed. She could be a waitress at the Cat Scratch Club, possibly, or maybe she lived in my apartment building. I'd never been good with details like that.

I felt sorry for her, though. Here she was, just as much of a kid as me, and instead of hanging out with her friends, or figuring out what she was going to do with the rest of her life, she was sitting around this drab little clinic, waiting to find out exactly how much she had left of her life.

"Hey." She jumped slightly at the sound of my voice. Her brown eyes, still startled, met mine. "Are you okay?"

She swiped furiously at a tear that was about to drip off the end of her nose. "I'm fine."

"Okay." I shrugged and went back to my magazine.

Several minutes ticked by, and then I heard another sniffle. I glanced up and her eyes met mine again. 

"Oh, God, who am I kidding?" she whimpered, her voice dangerously close to breaking. "I'm dying. I know I am."

What was I supposed to say to her? How could I help her when I didn't even know how to deal with it myself? 

"Maybe the test will be negative," I offered weakly, aware of how stupid and naive I sounded.

She shook her head. "It's positive. I know it is. God, how am I going to tell Roger?"

"Roger?" I echoed.

"My boyfriend," she explained, wiping away another tear. "We've been together over a year."

I envied her, not for having a boyfriend, but for being able to love like that. Relationships had always been about self-preservation for me. I'd invite men into my bed, but never into myself. They wanted sex, I wanted a good time, maybe a couple drinks at the bar when we went out. It was a safe pattern, and bad things happened when I strayed from it.

Hadn't the whole mess with Eddie proved that?

"April Dennis." The girl turned her head to the doorway, where the nurse from last time was holding a clipboard. "The doctor will see you now."

The girl gave me a shaky smile and followed the nurse out of the waiting room. I turned back to my magazine.

A cruise ship sailing through crystal blue waters. Palm trees bordering a beach of pure white sand. California, Mexico, the Bahamas, all places I'd never been to, and never live to see.

*************

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Two months later

I stared up at the ceiling, counting the tiny little bumps for the thousandth time that week. The room was a wreck, the casserole Tina had brought over was sprouting mold in my refrigerator, and I really needed a shower. I needed a fix.

I'd played around with drugs ever since I started dancing at the club. Growing up, I'd always been warned that if I tried that shit, my brothers would beat me until I got some sense into my head. But my brothers were in New Jersey, and had no idea where I was, or what I was doing. And everyone did it, to some extent. 

When I met Eddie, I got into the hard-time drugs. Cocaine, which I could never afford before, not on a dancer's salary. LSD. And a whole slew of other ones that I never knew by name, only as tiny little capsules that I swallowed before the rest of the night disappeared in a burst of color and light.

Heroin had always been my drug of choice, though. It was affordable, if not cheap, I liked the way it made my worries drop away, and there was a dealer who sold a few blocks from my apartment. I'd quit after I was diagnosed with HIV, but the cravings had been coming back. After all, it didn't matter what I did now, did it? Who cared if I destroyed my body, when chances were I'd be dead before Christmas?

The water was cold. I stood shivering under the water, lathering up my hair as quickly as I could. Freezing water poured down my back as I tilted my head back, letting the soap suds run down my legs and into the bathtub. When I was through I shut the water off and reached for a towel, quickly drying myself off before wrapping it around myself and going to find something to wear.

I spent the next fifteen minutes deciding on an outfit, wondering the entire time why I was wasting my time on something that was obviously so unimportant. I hadn't cared about anything in the last two months. Not about my eighteenth birthday, which had passed a mere six days after my diagnosis. I'd waited my entire life to be eighteen, and now that I finally was, it didn't matter anymore. I didn't care about how I looked, or how messy my apartment got. 

Hardly anything matters when you're dying.

I finally settled on an old, faded pair of jeans and an oversized sweatshirt an old boyfriend--I couldn't remember who--had left in my apartment ages ago. I didn't have much money, but if I played my cards right, I could find some poor sucker to flirt with, who would loan me twenty bucks for a stash. I'd scrape up the cash somehow. 

Stepping outside, it surprised me how little had changed in the last few months. My entire world had been destroyed, my life cut short, and yet the vendor still sold hot dogs on the corner of Avenue A, and the same bag lady was outside the Food Emporium, shaking her tin can at whoever passed by. 

Kenny was at his usual corner, with his usual crowd of customers. Some I recognized, and nodded brief hellos to before turning away so they couldn't ask how I was, or where I'd been. I stood back until the group thinned out, then approached my old dealer.

"Mimi!" he exclaimed. "Where've you been keeping yourself, gorgeous?"

I shrugged. "Just around. Can I have a stash?"

His eyes narrowed. "You got any money?"

I reached into my jeans pocket, and pulled out my last five dollars. "I know you charge ten, but can you cut me a break this time? I haven't worked in awhile."

"Oh, Mimi," he sighed. "If I did it for you, I'd have to do it for everyone, wouldn't I?"

"Please, Kenny," I begged. "I really need this."

"That badly?" A small smile played on his lips. "What's it worth to you?"

I knew the routine. I'd hang around until he was free for a moment, we'd disappear to a nearby alley, and I'd give him some form of sexual gratification. Then he'd give me the stash, and I'd proceed to go and erase the humiliation with the sweet oblivion that smack provided.

Whatever you want, I started to say. I opened my mouth to say it out loud, and then I realized it. I couldn't. I was HIV positive.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "Not today, Kenny."

He shrugged. "No skin off my back. I've got plenty of buyers."

I turned and stalked off, feeling my cheeks flush. Damn it, why did this have to happen? I raged silently. Why was I wasting my time, living half a life until I finally died years before I was supposed to?

It wasn't fair. And it didn't make any sense. The world had fucked me over, so why did I owe it anything? What did I have to look forward to?

Nothing, I realized. Nothing at all.

An eerie calm fell over me. I was dying already. What difference did it make whether I died or three months from now?

I went back to Kenny. I swallowed my guilt, and gave him a blow job. While he was sufficiently distracted, I helped myself to several bags of heroin from his back pocket, more than I'd ever taken at one time.

More than enough to end my life.

I held my head high as I stuffed the bags into my front pocket and headed down the street. I had fucked up my life, disgraced my family, and shattered my dreams. My world had come crashing down around my ears. Now it was over. In death, I could achieve the dignity that had escaped me in life. 

I rolled up my sleeve and took out the first bag.


	3. 3

Author's Notes:  
  
In case I didn't say this last time, thanks for the reviews, guys. It's a great feeling knowing that people are reading and enjoying what I write. And you're right, Brokie, I was missing a word at the end of that story. It was supposed to be "whether I died today or three months from now." *sighs* That'll teach me not to read before posting.  
  
This chapter should be a lot more uplifting than the other two. Believe it or not, I'm hoping this fic will turn out somewhat inspirational. I've gotten through most of the heavy stuff, although it'll still be terribly Angsty, because that's what I write best. In this chapter, Angel makes her appearance, and Mimi begins to learn to cope with life after AIDS.  
  
Chapter Three  
  
  
  
"Hey, whatsa matter, ya lost your purse or something?" I jerked my head up at the sound of the jeering voice. What was wrong with people, anyhow? Couldn't I have a nice, private suicide after all the shit life had dealt me?  
  
The alley was empty, though, and after a moment, I forced myself to return to the task at hand. Just stick in the needle, empty the syringe, nice and easy. Nothing you haven't done a thousand times before.  
  
A second voice intruded on my thoughts. "What's wrong with you anyhow, you fag?"  
  
Enough was enough. I shoved the needle back into the bag and crammed the whole thing into the front pocket of my sweatshirt. I'd just do this at home, where no one would bother me. I hadn't wanted to, since I had a suspicion that no one would even notice I was gone until the body started to smell, but what could I do?  
  
When I came out of the alley, I saw what the fuss was about. Two men had cornered a drag queen, and were taunting her by tossing her purse back and forth between them. "C'mon, homo, how's about a kiss?" the first man sneered. He was tall and well-built, and would have been almost handsome except for the ugly look on his face.  
  
"Kissy kissy!" the second man chimed in, puckering up his lips. He turned the purse upside down and began shaking its contents onto the ground.  
  
"Hey, leave her alone!" I yelled. Both men whirled about to face me. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I should be scared, but at the moment, I didn't give a fuck. I was sick, I was dying, and if they wanted to speed up my demise, then they could be my fucking guests.  
  
"Look what we have here." The first man smirked, and slowly started toward me. His buddy followed, the purse dangling limply from his hand. I wasn't sure what they were about to do to me. Beat me senseless, perhaps, maybe rape me as well. The joke was on them if they did, and for the first time, I felt almost glad to be HIV positive. Let them see what it was like to have their lives fucked with.  
  
I stared defiantly at them as they approached, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw the drag queen pick up pick up a rock and throw it at the first guy. It hit him square in the temple, and blood began to trickle down his face.  
  
"Okay, asshole, you asked for it," he snarled, yanking his friend away from me and descending on her once more. "No fag messes with me."  
  
He cornered the drag queen against the wall and I looked away, unable to watch what would happen next. I heard a thud, and a groan, and when I looked back, the man was bent over, clutching his crotch and moaning in pain.  
  
The second man looked over uncertainly to his friend. "Jim, whadda we do now?"  
  
Jim glanced over at the drag queen, who had snatched her purse back and was holding it against her chest. "Let's go, Frankie. I'm through with this bitch." He turned to her and spat at her feet. "Faggot."  
  
"You're just jealous because I'm more of a man than you are, and more of a woman than you'll ever get," she said sweetly. Jim glared at her, but didn't say anything more.  
  
Frankie helped Jim limp away, and I bent down to pick up the scattered items at my feet. "Here," I mumbled, handing her a tube of lipstick. "I think this is yours."  
  
When she reached to take it, our hands touched. "Thank you."  
  
"Are you all right?" I continued. "Those assholes didn't hurt you, did they?"  
  
She shook her head. "I think I hurt them more than they hurt me."  
  
I found myself smiling. A small one, but a smile nevertheless. "I think you're right."  
  
"I'm Angel," she introduced herself, straightening her wig with one hand and holding the other out to me. "And I appreciate your help."  
  
"I didn't do anything," I protested. "You're the one who rescued me."  
  
"That was brave of you," she insisted. "Most people wouldn't stick their neck out for someone like me."  
  
I shrugged. "It was nothing. Glad I could help." I put my hands back in my sweatshirt pockets. Fingered the syringe through the plastic bag. "Nice to have met you."  
  
"Wait," she called. I turned back to her. "I didn't catch your name."  
  
"Mimi," I told her. "Mimi Marquez."  
  
I turned around and started down the street. I felt strangely light-headed, but that didn't seem to be anything to worry about. And even if it was, I wouldn't have to worry for much longer.  
  
I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I didn't see the curb in front of me. There was a scuffing noise as my sneaker skidded along the cement, and the ground came rushing up to meet me. I landed with a thud, and struggled to catch my breath. The fall hurt a lot more than I thought it would.  
  
When I looked up, Angel was running toward me. She was a lot faster on high heels than I ever was, I noticed, for some strange reason. "Mimi, honey, are you okay?"  
  
I involuntarily scooted back a few feet. "I'm fine, really. I just fell. No big deal."  
  
"Oh, Mimi, you're bleeding," she continued, reaching towards my chin.  
  
I pulled back even more. "I don't think you want to do that."  
  
She nodded and pulled back her hand. "Your chin's bleeding."  
  
I touched my chin and felt the blood between my fingers, warm and sticky. "I'll go home and put a bandage on it."  
  
"Take my handkerchief," she offered, pulling a white cotton cloth from her purse and handing it to me.  
  
"Thank you," I whispered, pressing it to my chin.  
  
"Are you sure you're going to be all right?" she continued. From the way she was looking at me, I got the feeling she wasn't just talking about a few scrapes.  
  
"I'm sure." My voice sounded a lot more confident than I felt.  
  
"If you ever need to talk, I perform on this street corner every day," Angel told me. "You take care of yourself, Mimi."  
  
"Yeah, okay," I agreed half-heartedly. "Sure."  
  
*************  
  
My apartment felt hot and stuffy when I returned. I shook my head, amazed at how I was wasting my last few hours. Did it matter that my living room was a mess, or that the kitchen faucet was still dripping with annoying regularity? What difference did it make whether the bed was made or not?  
  
Quit stalling, Mimi, I told myself. I fished out the bag and the syringe. Poised it above the vein in my arm. Stopped.  
  
I didn't want to die like this. Not all alone, in a dirty apartment, with no one to know or care that I was gone.  
  
I threw the syringe and smack into the trash. Took the bag out back and tossed it in the dumpster. Then I came back inside, curled up in a ball on my sofa, and cried.  
  
*************  
  
Angel was still on the corner when I came back. She'd changed into a purple miniskirt and white angora sweater, and was busy beating a steady rhythm on a plastic pickle tub. When I tapped her on the shoulder, she didn't look surprised to see me. We sat together on the curb as I talked over the sound of cars driving by. When the sun went down, and it started getting cold, she draped her fur coat around my shoulders.  
  
I started with my childhood in New Jersey, and took her though my father's death, moving to New York, Eddie, and being diagnosed with HIV. I finished with what I'd almost done that afternoon, and how I didn't want to die alone.  
  
"I don't want to die at all," I whimpered, pulling her coat tightly around me. "Angel, I'm only eighteen. I'm scared."  
  
"It was like that for me too at first," she told me, putting an arm around my shoulders. "I can tell you that it's worst right at the beginning."  
  
I didn't know why I was surprised. It was a well known fact that AIDS was particularly prevalent in the gay community. But Angel seemed so…I couldn't find the right word. Not happy, maybe not content, but accepting. Not bitter. Able to live without fear.  
  
"I got it two and a half years ago," she continued, staring up into the sky at something only she could see. "I thought my life was over."  
  
"My life is over!" I exclaimed. "Can you honestly tell me that I'll still be here five years from now?"  
  
"Mimi, it's not about how many years you live," Angel countered. "It's what you do with the years you have."  
  
I rolled my eyes. "So far, I've been a runaway, a stripper, and a junkie. All I have to do is start selling my body and my life will be complete."  
  
"You still have time," she insisted. "What do you want to do now?"  
  
It was my turn to stare at the sky. "I wanted to be an actress. That'll never happen now."  
  
Angel looked down and tugged at her skirt. "Mimi, have you ever been to Life Support?"  
  
I shook my head. "Never heard of them."  
  
"It's a support group for people with AIDS," she explained. "I think it might help you if you went."  
  
"No way. Uh-uh." I shook my head again. "I don't think that's such a good idea."  
  
Angel didn't seem offended by my refusal. "Just think about it, okay?"  
  
"All right," I gave in. "I'll think about it, but don't count on anything." I stood up and took her coat off. "It's getting late. I'd better get going."  
  
I thought I caught a glimpse of concern in her eyes as I handed the coat back to her. "Will you be okay, Mimi?"  
  
"Overall?" I shrugged. "I don't know."  
  
"What about tonight?" she continued.  
  
I knew what she was asking. "I threw out the smack. I'll be okay for tonight." The funny thing was, when I said it, I actually believed it.  
  
She hugged me briefly. "You know where to find me."  
  
"I know where to find you," I repeated. "Thank you, Angel."  
  
When I got home, I cleaned my apartment from top to bottom. I stripped the sheets off my bed and replaced them with fresh ones. When I finally went to bed, I slept through the night for the first time in two months.  
  
*************  
  
Things seemed a little brighter after that. I'd forgotten what it was like to have a friend I could actually talk to. The girls at the club were great for barhopping and the latest gossip on who was sleeping with who, but I could never bring myself to open up to any of them. Even Tina, who had been closer to me than the others, had her share of problems, working while supporting a two-year old son and a boyfriend who had a tendency to get mean when he drank.  
  
I couldn't talk to her. But I could talk to Angel, and I did. There were days when I didn't think I'd be able to go on anymore, and the only thing that got me through the day was the thought of a few moments of conversation with her on my way home. I'd started working at the club again, just part-time. I needed the money, and I needed to get out. And to my surprise, I found it actually helped.  
  
I'd also started my little smack problem again. I'd been a little shy of the stuff ever since I'd come close to OD-ing on it, but when the girls at work asked me to tag along to a party they'd heard about, how could I say no? And when we got there, and the bags of the familiar powder were being passed around, how could I turn them down?  
  
I insisted on having my own needles, though. I wasn't going to be responsible for anyone else's death.  
  
Then I caught another cold, and my life went to hell again. I spent three days in bed, amazed at how such a tiny virus could wreak suck havoc with my body. If the other girls caught this bug, it wouldn't do more than make them sniffle a little for a few days. With me, I was lucky it didn't kill me.  
  
It was Monday night before I was able to get out of bed and make my way outside to find something to eat. Angel wasn't on her corner, and I figured that it had gotten too cold for her when I heard someone call my name. When I turned around, there she was.  
  
"Mimi, hi!" she exclaimed. She was wearing her long white coat, and a gorgeous blue dress I would have killed for. "I haven't seen you in awhile."  
  
"I was sick," I explained, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets and trying not to shiver. My coat was getting a little thin. "But I'm doing better now."  
  
"I'm glad to hear it." She paused for a moment. "I'm on my way to Life Support. Did you feel like coming along?"  
  
It had gotten to be a routine. Angel would ask, and I would find some excuse not to come, and promise I'd be there next time, cross my heart. And when next time came around, the pattern would start over again.  
  
"Mimi, I really think it would help if you came." I looked at her in surprise from this break in tradition. "You've gotten so thin, and I'm getting worried about you."  
  
"Angel, I don't know how this will help anything," I confessed. "These group meetings really aren't my thing."  
  
"Just try it for ten minutes," she pleaded. "If you don't like it, we'll leave."  
  
She was making a lot of sense, and I couldn't understand why I was still resisting. "I don't know."  
  
"I'll let you borrow my red dress this weekend," she blurted out.  
  
Damn, she was good at this. "The sleeveless one with the low-cut back?"  
  
Angel nodded. "The very one."  
  
I giggled in spite of myself. "I never thought I'd see Angel Schunard resort to bribery."  
  
"Oh, Mimi," she sighed, putting an arm around my shoulders. "You're one tough cookie, you know that?"  
  
"Oh, all right," I gave in, pretending to grumble so she wouldn't feel too triumphant. "Ten minutes."  
  
"Good girl." She started walking again, and I meekly followed her down the street. 


	4. 4

Author's Notes:  
  
Sorry for the lack of updates with this. I got a little stuck in terms of ideas. I'm on more solid ground now, so I should be a little quicker. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far, believe me, it's deeply appreciated. And thanks to Lola for insisting that this didn't suck, and I should post.  
  
  
  
I held my coat around me tightly as I followed Angel into the loft. I don't know what I'd been expecting, but this wasn't it. Men and women sat on overstuffed couches, talking easily. One man was laughing freely at something his partner had said, his head tilted back and letting his booming voice fill the room. I was surprised, that he could still laugh like that, and that life could still be that good for him.  
  
Everyone greeted Angel warmly, and smiled their greetings to me as she pulled me out from where I had been hiding behind her. "This is Mimi," she introduced me. "And it's her first visit to Life Support."  
  
I gave everyone a nervous smile. "Hi."  
  
"Mimi, this is Paul," Angel continued. "He's our group leader."  
  
Paul had dark hair and wire rim glasses. His handshake was firm and his smile was friendly. "Welcome, Mimi. We're glad to have you."  
  
"Thank you," I whispered, sitting down next to Angel on a couch and playing with the ring on my right hand. Angel put a reassuring hand on my shoulder.  
  
"If we're all here, then let's get started," Paul began. "Why don't we go around the room and introduce ourselves to Mimi?"  
  
Everyone smiled and waved to me as they said their names. Gordon was a banker, and he'd lost his job after ten years when his boss found out he was HIV positive. Pam was twenty-three, and she'd contracted the virus two years ago. When they got to me, I stared helplessly at Angel, hoping she'd give me some clue as to what to do. I knew I was supposed to introduce myself to the group, and say a little something about how I was coping with HIV, but I just couldn't. It was one thing to talk about it with Angel, who was my friend, but blurting out my past to a roomful of virtual strangers was a different story.  
  
"It's all right, Mimi," Paul assured me. "You can just listen for now." He glanced around the room. "Does anyone want to talk?"  
  
"I do," Angel answered. She smiled at me, and turned back to the group. "I was a nervous wreck my first time too. But it helps to talk with people who understand." She paused for a moment. "I was nineteen when I got HIV. I got it from my dance instructor."  
  
I was listening intently. Angel had never talked about how she'd gotten the virus, and I hadn't wanted to pry.  
  
"Ever since I was a boy, I wanted to be a ballet dancer," she continued. "My father didn't like it, but my mother always managed to scrape up enough money to pay for lessons. Then she died when I was ten. My father wouldn't pay for lessons--he said they were a waste of time. But I kept dancing on my own, and when I was sixteen, I won a scholarship to a ballet school."  
  
She went on to talk about how she'd moved away from home, and how her dance teacher Julian became the father figure in her life. "Things happened slowly between us. I was young, yes, but I never felt taken advantage of. Julian made me feel like I could be anything I wanted to be. I loved him for that.  
  
"Then he started to get sick," she continued. "He kept saying he was fine, and wouldn't go see the doctor. By the time he finally went, he was so sick he had to go into the hospital right away. He died a week later."  
  
Angel paused for a moment, wiping away a single tear that was trickling down her cheek. "I stopped dancing when Julian died. I know he would have been disappointed, but ballet had always come from the heart for me, and it died with Julian. I was angry for a long time after that. I'd lost my friend, my lover, the rest of my life…" She cleared her throat. "But then I came here, and began to realize that there can be life after HIV, if you're brave enough to accept it."  
  
I hugged Angel, not caring that the rest of the room saw me. I whispered how worry I was about Julian. Then I turned back to the rest of the group, and began my story.  
  
When I got home that night, I took my AZT for the first time.  
  
*************  
  
It was a cold day in March when I found the lock on my door. I'd been fighting off another cold, and was returning from a pilgrimage to the grocery store for vitamin C and cough drops. I saw the white paper posted to the door before I noticed the large, ugly padlock.  
  
To the resident in Apartment #3C,  
  
It has come to our attention that you have not paid the required rent for two months. You have three days to come up with the required amount, plus a ten percent late fee. If we have not received the rent by that time, your belongings will be seized in lieu of payment.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Benjamin Coffin III  
  
Founder, Cyberarts Industries  
  
I slumped against the wall and burst into tears. There was no way in hell I could make enough money in three nights. I'd be homeless by week's end, and considering how cold it had been lately, I'd probably be dead by the end of the month. I'd never lived on the streets, but Angel had told me stories that terrified me, tales of thugs who'd beat you and leave you for dead just to steal your coat, and of eating garbage just to survive. Maybe I could have made it a year ago, but not with HIV. What would I do when my AZT ran out?  
  
God, Mimi, get a grip on yourself, I thought furiously, wiping away the tears with the back of my hand. Crying your eyes out isn't going to do a whole lot of good. I sniffed, and searched my purse for a Kleenex to blow my nose. Ironic, wasn't it? Not two months ago I'd longed to be dead, and now here I was, fighting to stay alive.  
  
And I would fight. Dammit, I'd been through far worse than this. There were homeless shelters after all, or I'm sure Angel would let me stay with her until I got back on my feet again. That brought me to the realization that I didn't actually know where Angel lived, but wherever that was, I was sure she'd know somewhere I could go.  
  
But first, before I imposed on my friends or gave this up as a lost cause, I would fight. Whoever this Benjamin Coffin III was, he had to be human. He had to have people he loved and cared about. Maybe he had a daughter or sister my age. Would he really turn an eighteen year old girl out into the streets to die? If he was, then damn it, he'd have to look me in the face as he did so.  
  
I snatched the paper off the door. The address was printed right there in the letterhead, Cyberarts Studios, 35 Avenue A, Suite #300. I folded the paper and slipped it into my purse, grabbing my groceries before I left. They were all I owned at this point, and I'd be damned if I'd give those up too. I squared my shoulders and started downstairs, trying unsuccessfully to hold back the coughing fit that seized my body and made me gasp for air when it was over.  
  
I was going to fix this. There was no other option.  
  
*****************  
  
I found the building with little trouble. It was located in a dingy grey building, and the carpet in the office was stained and dirty. I found it hard to believe that someone who worked in a place like this could hold the power to turn me out of my home. Either this business had to be very new, or very broke.  
  
There was a desk for a secretary, but no one in sight. Just as well, I thought to myself. I continued on back to the offices. I found the one I was looking for almost right away. The name Benjamin Coffin III, Founder was stenciled in a shiny brass plaque by the door, which was slightly ajar. I raised my hand and knocked.  
  
"Alison, honey, I'll be done in a minute," a deep male voice answered. "I'm just waiting for a phone call from my builder."  
  
"Uh…" I couldn't think of any way to reply to this, so I pushed the door open a bit more and slipped into the room.  
  
The man was staring transfixed at the computer screen, his fingers racing across the keyboard. It gave me the perfect opportunity to study him, and it hit me about three seconds into it.  
  
I knew him.  
  
He had been a regular at the club for quite awhile. I'd given him several lap dances, and he liked to tuck the money into my top, instead of the bottom like most guys did. Then he disappeared for awhile, then suddenly he was back with a slew of guys. His bachelor party, one of the other girls had told me. Most of the guys got drunk and rowdy by midnight. I'd had a couple of shots myself, thanks to the men who insisted on buying them from me. Somehow this guy and I ended up in one of the back rooms, my hands under his shirt, his fumbling with the clasp on my bra.  
  
I had been the one to pull away, coming to my senses and realizing that this wasn't a good idea on so many levels. I'd given him the excuse that he was getting married soon, and I didn't want to cause trouble between his wife and him. He agreed somewhat reluctantly, we returned to the party, and that was the end of it.  
  
"There." He finished typing with a flourish, then turned to me, a broad smile on his face. "All--" The smile dropped off his face, replaced by a tight, formal one. "How may I help you?"  
  
I swallowed, fingering the letter in my purse with my right hand. Well, now, wasn't I making a spectacular case?  
  
"Uh, my name is Mimi Marquez," I began, finally regaining control over my voice. "I got this today."  
  
I shoved the letter at him, and he scanned it briefly before looking back up at me. "Well, Miss Marquez, what do you propose we do?"  
  
"I know you must hear this a lot," I plunged ahead. "I'm normally very good at paying my rent. It's just that I've been sick a lot, and I haven't been able to work. If you could give me a little longer, just a week, I could have that money for you, I promise."  
  
He frowned. "Miss Marquez, I'm the owner of a business. My employees depend on me, and I can't exactly tell them I can't pay them because my tenants won't pay their rent. That doesn't sound very fair, does it?"  
  
"Please," I begged. "I'll pay whatever you want. I just need a little more time."  
  
"You've already had two months," he pointed out. "How much more time do you need?"  
  
"You don't understand," I insisted. "I've had a lot going on in the last few months. I need this apartment. I couldn't make it on the streets in the condition I'm in now."  
  
He shrugged. "You look perfectly healthy to me. I'm terribly sorry, Miss Marquez, but I do have a reputation to uphold, and people who depend on me. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do."  
  
At that point, I had two options. I could either burst into tears again, or storm out in a huff. I decided on the latter. It would be a cold day in hell before I'd cry in front of this heartless bastard.  
  
"All right, fine," I spat, snatching my purse up from his desk. "Just know that if I die, my blood will be on your hands."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"You're about to evict an eighteen year old with HIV from the only home she has," I continued. "Like my mother used to say, honra y dinero se ganan despacio y se pierden ligero." I spun on my heel and stormed toward the door.  
  
"What did you say?" he asked, standing up.  
  
I shot him a withering glare. "I said, reputation and money are earned slowly and lost quickly."  
  
"No, about HIV," he continued. It might have been my imagination, but his face looked somehow softer. "You have AIDS?"  
  
"Don't worry, it's not contagious," I said bitterly. "You won't catch any germs from screwing me over."  
  
He walked over to me and put a hand on my arm. "Have a seat, Mimi. Let's see if we can work this out." 


	5. 5

Author's Notes:  
  
I don't like this chapter all that much. But it's done, and I haven't done any updating in almost a week, so here it is. I know I'm not an established writer here, and I know this isn't slash, but if anyone's reading this, please review. I'd really like to know that people are actually reading this. And thanks to Lola and Kanoi for always reviewing. You guys rule.  
  
Other than that, this chapter's a little weird. I have this odd Benny fascination, so I'm attempting to give him a human side in addition to the jerk that he always seems to be. But despite what this chapter may suggest, this isn't going to be a Mimi/Benny story. He's in her past, and I have to write it.  
  
Rambling over. Story now.  
  
  
  
  
  
Benny and I talked for half an hour. At the end, he agreed to give me another two weeks to get the rent money to him, and I agreed to let him take me out to dinner.  
  
He took me to a Chinese place around the corner. Not terribly fancy, with paper napkins and plastic silverware, but the food was hot and tasted good and was better than anything I'd had in months. Benny watched with an amused smile as I scarfed down egg rolls, fried rice, and just about every entrée the place offered.  
  
"You know, Mimi, the food's even better when you taste it," he grinned, motioning the waiter over and ordering another order of Mongolian beef. "I don't want you choking."  
  
"Sohhee," I mumbled, my mouth full of won tons. I swallowed. "Sorry," I repeated.  
  
Benny laughed. "You look like you haven't eaten a good meal in years."  
  
I brought my eyes up from my plate to meet his. "Maybe I haven't."  
  
  
  
He walked me home afterwards, and personally took the padlock off of my door. I thanked him and told him I'd get the money to him as soon as possible.  
  
"Mimi," he began. "Don't put yourself out about that. Whatever you can get to me is fine."  
  
"Benny, I can't ask for special treatment," I insisted. "I just need a little extra time, I'll get you the rent, and it'll be fine."  
  
"Just take care of yourself, all right?" That concerned look was back in his eyes. I didn't know why. We were practically strangers, after all. We had known each other all of three hours. This wasn't like any relationship I'd ever known. Then again, Benny wasn't like any man I'd ever known.  
  
Mimi, he's a married man, I told myself firmly. He's just doing you a favor, that's all. You've got the extension on your rent. Why ruin a good thing?  
  
"Benny, can I ask you something?" I began. Damn it, Mimi, are you determined to fuck this up?  
  
He looked at me, completely serious. "What is it, Mimi?"  
  
"Why are you doing this?" I blurted out. "Why are you being so nice to me?"  
  
He looked confused. "What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean everything!" I exclaimed. "Do you buy dinner for everyone who can't pay their rent? Do you let them have extra time and take the padlocks off their doors?"  
  
"Mimi, listen to me." He put an arm on my shoulder. "I knew a girl just like you. Very sweet, very nice girl. Then she got AIDS, and she didn't think she could live with it, so she killed herself. It was the saddest thing I'd ever seen, and I wouldn't wish that on anyone."  
  
"I'm sorry," I whispered, not knowing what else to say.  
  
"You take care of yourself, okay?" Benny instructed me, tipping my chin up so our eyes met. "I'll see you around."  
  
He leaned over and kissed me, nothing heavy, nothing serious, just a light, sweet kiss that could have been entirely friendly. Then he was gone, his figure retreating down the stairs and back to all the comforts of his world, leaving me alone to figure out what the hell had just happened.  
  
  
  
The next three weeks passed without a sign of him, and then suddenly there he was, hanging around the club after I got off of work. "Thought I'd come by and see how you're doing," he greeted me, pecking my cheek. "How's it going?"  
  
"Benny, it's two in the morning," I pointed out. "Shouldn't you be home with your wife instead of hanging around a nightclub?"  
  
He shrugged. "Nice to see you too."  
  
"Benny, I'm sorry," I apologized. "I just didn't expect to see you here, that's all."  
  
"Well, since I'm here, feel like going out for a bite?" he asked. "My treat."  
  
I shook my head. "I'm really tired. I should get home."  
  
"Let me walk you, then," he offered. "This really isn't the best neighborhood to be walking alone in, especially not at this hour."  
  
"All right," I gave in. "Thank you, Benny."  
  
We walked in silence for a few blocks, and I attempted to figure out what on earth he was doing there. What did he want from me? Was I a little sister to him, someone he had to protect even though there wasn't a person on earth who could stop the demons that were stalking me? Or would this be like every other relationship I'd ever had, where the guy would be sweet and nice at first, and then demand payment for what he had freely given?  
  
"You look thinner," Benny commented abruptly. "Have you been taking your AZT?"  
  
I didn't see what business it was of his, but he had let me pay my rent two weeks late. "Off and on," I shrugged. "When I remember, I do."  
  
"Mimi, that's not good enough," he lectured me. "You have to be vigilant about things like this. Someone in your condition can't take any chances with their health."  
  
"I fail to see how it's any of your concern," I informed him frostily. "I can find my way home from here. Goodnight, Mr. Coffin the Third."  
  
"Mimi, wait." He grabbed my arm, and stared with a mixture of horror and disgust at the tracks on it. "Damn it, don't tell me you're stupid enough to do that shit."  
  
"Don't touch me," I snapped, yanking my arm out of his grasp. "I don't belong to you just because I live in the shithole you call an apartment complex."  
  
His jaw dropped and he stared at me in shock. My words echoed in my ears, and I realized just what I had said. This man had the power to evict me and send me onto the streets. He could crush the fragile life I was just beginning to rebuild for myself, and now I had shot my mouth off and made him mad.  
  
Benny was still staring at me. "I'm sorry," I whispered, and sprinted off into the darkness.  
  
  
  
I had been home all of five minutes when I heard a pounding on the door. "Mimi, open the door," Benny's voice came through. "We need to talk."  
  
"We're not talking about anything!" I shouted back, not caring if the neighbors heard. "Go fuck yourself. Is your wife still up? Go fuck her."  
  
His voice was maddeningly calm. "Mimi, you have ten seconds to open this door."  
  
"Or else what?" I shot back. "I'll get a spanking?"  
  
"Mimi, let's not forget how I very generously let you stay on even though you hadn't paid your rent," Benny continued in that same, even voice. "Don't tell me my faith in you was misplaced."  
  
The locks scraped loudly as I snapped them back, and opened the door. "I'll be out by tomorrow if that's what you want," I hissed. "Will you leave me alone now?"  
  
Benny sighed. "Mimi, there's no reason to get upset. I'm just concerned, that's all."  
  
"And you're showing your concern by threatening to throw me out?" I rolled my eyes. "That's really nice, Benny."  
  
He threw out his hands in exasperation. "All I want is to talk to you, Mimi. Five minutes, that's all."  
  
"All right," I gave in. "Five minutes."  
  
I stepped aside to let him in. He stood around nervously while I relocked the door, as if he was afraid to sit down. "Oh, it's fine," I told him. "I haven't had any roach problems in a couple months."  
  
He flinched. "What?"  
  
"I'm kidding, Benny." I marched over to the nearest chair and plopped myself down in it. "See, it's okay. Nothing's eating me."  
  
He sat down nervously on the sofa, as if he were still expecting something to come out of it and bite him. "Thank you for not making a scene, Mimi," he said. "I appreciate it."  
  
"Cut it out, Benny," I told him. "I'm not five years old and you're not my father."  
  
"Why are you so defensive?" he exclaimed. "All I want is to help you, for Christ's sake!"  
  
"Help me how?" I demanded. "By controlling my life? By threatening to evict me if I don't quit drugs?"  
  
He slammed his fist down onto the coffee table. "By making sure you don't fuck up your life!" he yelled. "There's so much you could do with your life, and I don't want to see you throw it all away!"  
  
I gave what I hoped was a shrug of indifference. "Well, you should have been here six months ago. Then you might have been able to do some good."  
  
"Mimi, look at me." I looked. He was wearing that same professional, no-nonsense look that he had when I first met him. "I'm a business man. I like to think I'm a responsible one, and in order to do that, there are certain things I can't allow. Drugs, for instance. I simply cannot have illegal substances on my properties. It doesn't look good for my tenants, and it doesn't look good for me."  
  
"So what you're saying is, I have to quit smack or I'm out?"  
  
He nodded slowly. "I'm afraid so."  
  
I wanted to spit in his face and tell him that I didn't need to live in his shitty building, and I'd go find somewhere better to live where landlords minded their own business and didn't blackmail their tenants into letting them control their lives. I wanted to gather up my few meager possessions and march right out of there. Instead, I started to cry.  
  
Benny was beside me in an instant, his arm wrapped about my shoulders. "Oh, God, Mimi, I'm sorry."  
  
"I don't know why I'm crying," I sniffed. "I don't know why I'm being so stupid."  
  
"Shhhh," he whispered, pulling a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and wiping my face with it. "I shouldn't have been so rough on you. It's going to be all right."  
  
He hugged me, and I tried desperately to stop crying. When I finally pulled away, we stared into each others eyes for a very long moment, and before I knew it, he was kissing me. Not a brief, soft kiss like before, but harder, and much more insistent. It had been so long since I had been kissed like this. Eddie had never been much into kissing--he liked to jump straight to the sex. But this was different in another way. It had been years since I had been kissed by someone who cared about me. I knew that Benny did, in his own, strange way, and that was something to get used to.  
  
When the kiss ended, Benny picked me up, and started back to the bedroom. "Benny, stop," I whispered, struggling to get down. "We can't. You know that."  
  
He set me down. "Because you have HIV and I don't?"  
  
I nodded. "I can't let you do this."  
  
"Mimi, there are precautions," he insisted. "If we do it right, there's little to no risk."  
  
I studied his face. "Are you sure about this?"  
  
"I'm sure," he insisted.  
  
"Do you have a condom?" I continued.  
  
He slapped his back pocket. "Never without one."  
  
He kissed me again, and when he picked me up a second time, I allowed him to carry me over to the bed. 


	6. 6

Author's Notes: Yet another chapter I'm not too fond of, which probably means everyone will love it :) Sorry this is so short, but I'm taking off on vacation soon, and I wanted to post something before I leave. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and keep them coming. It's great to know people are reading this.  
  
  
  
Benny, as I soon discovered, lived by order and routine. He was happiest when he made out a schedule for his day and stuck to it religiously. That was the secret to success, he told me. You have to plan your time well if you want any of it to be productive.  
  
"Take it from me, Mimi," he told me over and over. "Use your time wisely, and don't be afraid to work hard, and there's no limit to what you can accomplish in life."  
  
I always laughed at him when he said this. Perhaps he had ten years to spend building his empire, but I would be lucky if I had half of that. I'd be damned if I was going to spend my remaining time as a slave to some words scribbled on paper.  
  
But like I said before, Benny thrived on predictability. And as his girlfriend, I had to fit into that schedule of his. Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday nights involved Benny showing up at my apartment, sometimes with flowers, sometimes with dinner, but always precisely at seven thirty. What we did afterwards varied, but he was always gone by midnight at the latest. He had to be at the office by eight, he told me. And Alison would get suspicious if he wasn't asleep in bed with her when she got up at six.  
  
His being married didn't bother me as much as I thought it would. I had slept with several married men during my days with Eddie, and had come to adopt the opinion that you can't break up a happy marriage. Benny was the one who had started this, I kept telling myself. If it wasn't me, then he would just be fooling around with some other girl.  
  
It also didn't bother me in that I wasn't jealous of Alison in the slightest. Maybe because I wasn't in love with Benny. I was fond of him, yes, and he could be extremely charming at times. But I didn't love him. How could I give my heart to a man who was cheating on his wife every time he kissed me?  
  
Sometimes he would show up at the club on Friday nights, and sit in a table at the back while I danced. I didn't like it when he did that. I'd learned back when I started the job that the more I flirted with the guys, the more I got in tips. It felt too weird when I knew Benny was watching me. I could feel his eyes boring into me, and his disapproval radiating from across the room.  
  
"Mimi, why do you stay at that place?" he asked me once, as we were walking home after my shift. "Why don't you get a more respectable job somewhere?"  
  
I bristled immediately. "Are you saying I'm not respectable enough for you?"  
  
"I'm saying that working in a place like this reflects badly upon you," Benny said in that calm, even voice that I'd come to hate. "Why don't you let me set you up with a nice office job somewhere?"  
  
I rolled my eyes. "You mean to tell me that you're going to use your father-in-law's influence to get your mistress a job?"  
  
"Mimi, you can do better than this!" he insisted. "There are other, more respectable fields of employment--"  
  
"You know what?" I snapped at him. "I tried to get one of those nice, respectable jobs. I must have walked all over Manhattan when I moved here. And no one would hire me, because I wasn't respectable enough for them."  
  
"Maybe you weren't going about it right," Benny persisted. "You know, first impressions are everything--"  
  
"Benny, stop it!" I shouted. "I'm not one of those nice, respectable girls! Everyone knows it! And you know it!"  
  
We had reached my apartment building by this time, and Benny dragged me inside, with a bit more force than was necessary. "Mimi Marquez, I don't want to hear you talking like that," he instructed me. "You're a beautiful young woman, and I'm not going to have you throw your life away dancing in some trashy night club!"  
  
"There you go." I threw up my hands. "I'm beautiful. Not intelligent, not hard working, just some pretty slut for you to have a fling with, right?"  
  
"Is that what you think I'm doing?" Benny demanded. "You think I'm into this for the thrill of slumming it?"  
  
"Don't play stupid with me," I warned him. "You don't like me because I'm intellectually stimulating. You like me because I know all these dirty little tricks that you'd never dream of asking Muffy for. That's it, isn't it?"  
  
"Of course not!" he exclaimed.  
  
He looked genuinely wounded, and I felt bad for having been so harsh. "I'm sorry, Benny."  
  
I let him fold me into his arms, and breathed in the familiar scent of that expensive cologne he always wore. He led me up the stairs to my apartment, and opened the door. No sooner had he shut it behind us than his hands were tugging my sweater over my head, and fumbling with the zipper in back of my skirt.  
  
I stepped away from him. "Benny, I'm really tired. I just worked an eight hour shift."  
  
"That didn't stop you last week," he protested as he tossed his jacket onto the sofa and stripped his own shirt off in one fluid movement.  
  
"I mean it, Benny." I bent down to pick up my sweater. "Not tonight. I'm too tired."  
  
"Oh, come on, Mimi," he insisted, pulling the sweater out of my hands, balling it up, and sending it sailing across the room. "I've had a long day too, and I need to unwind. This won't take long."  
  
His words sounded more slurred than normal, and I wondered how many drinks he'd had tonight, and why it had taken me this long to notice. "Tomorrow, I promise," I told him, in an attempt to placate him. "For sure."  
  
"No good." He shook his head. "Alison's father and I are going golfing at his country club all day tomorrow."  
  
"Well, what's wrong with Sunday night?" I insisted. "It was always fine for you before."  
  
"What's wrong with tonight?" he shot back. "If you spent eight hours being sexy for perfect strangers, why can't you spare fifteen minutes for your boyfriend?"  
  
I flung open my door, not caring that I was still in my bra, or that my skirt was hanging loosely about my waist. "Benny, get out."  
  
He looked at me in astonishment. "You're kidding, right?"  
  
"Get. Out." I snatched up his shirt and tossed it into the hallway.  
  
"Mimi, you can't do this," he insisted. "Come on, don't make this harder than it has to be."  
  
I folded my arms. "Benny, you own the building. You own my apartment. But you don't own me. Are we clear?"  
  
"I can't believe you're doing this." He shook his head. "Mimi, you're about to make a very serious mistake."  
  
"Maybe so, but I don't care." I grabbed his arm and shoved him out into the hall. "Goodbye, Benny."  
  
"Oh, all right," he grumbled. "I'll see you on Sunday."  
  
"Actually," I began, "I don't think that's such a good idea."  
  
He blinked. "What?"  
  
"I don't think that's such a good idea," I repeated. "And I don't think you and me is a good idea either."  
  
"You're breaking up with me?" he asked in astonishment. "Mimi, don't be stupid."  
  
"Benny, I've done a lot of dumb things in my lifetime," I told him. "But regardless of what you may think, I'm not stupid."  
  
And with that, I slammed the door in his face. 


	7. 7

Author's notes: You know, it's very interesting that Mark and company always eat at the Life Café, seeing as it's rather expensive there. The food's to die for, though. If you ever go, try their quesadillas. Fabulous food, but a little pricey. Maybe that's why the waitress asked if I was going to order food. And who knows, maybe they overcharge the wealthy clientele. Not that I'm wealthy, but yeah. Good food. Cool place.  
  
Tompkins Square Park is also very cool. I felt like a Rent character there, although I don't know if Mimi or Maureen has ever been cornered by a weird guy and had to listen to him talk for half an hour about how he can see they're a good Jewish girl. I'm a lot of things, but I'm not Jewish. Okay.  
  
Rambling over. Here's the next chapter, for everyone who's waited so patiently for it. Special thanks goes out to Christina, who was nice enough to do the Spanish translations for me.  
  
  
  
Angel pulled a skirt off the rack and held it up against her. "What do you think, Mimi?" she asked. "Would this go with my green sweater?"  
  
I bit my lip and tried not to giggle. "Angel, it's orange."  
  
"You think it wouldn't work?" She furrowed her brow and held the skirt in front of her. "I was hoping I could pull it off."  
  
"Oh, Angel," I sighed, resting my head against her shoulder for a moment. "You could wear a table cloth and make it look like something out of Vogue, but this skirt is beyond even you."  
  
"A table cloth?" Her eyes lit up. "Now there's a thought."  
  
This time I did giggle. "Go for it, girl."  
  
"We'll see," was all she could promise. "Now how about you? I don't think I've seen you try on anything since we got here."  
  
I shrugged. "I guess I'm just not up to shopping today."  
  
"Not up to shopping?" she repeated, her eyes widening in alarm. "Is anything wrong?"  
  
"No, nothing, really," I insisted. To tell the truth, I'd been a little down ever since breaking up with Benny two months ago. Not that I regretted it all--he had been acting like a possessive asshole, and I'd sworn I was through with guys like that. But I missed him too. Not so much Benny himself as how he'd show up at my door with flowers, or the way he'd press his forehead against mine when we were curled up in my bed after the sex was over.  
  
I missed the companionship. And Benny, although he had his faults, had been someone who cared about me, in his own way. In his weird, holier than thou way, sure, but at least he was there. He was there and he cared.  
  
"This is about him again, isn't it?" Angel asked, her voice breaking into my thoughts. She hadn't been all that fond of Benny, but she had always understood that he was important to me.  
  
"Angel, what's wrong with me?" I complained, throwing my hands into the air. "He was a total ass, and I don't regret breaking up with him."  
  
"But you still miss him?" she finished.  
  
I nodded and began flipping through another rack of clothes, too embarrassed to look at her. "Pretty dumb, huh?"  
  
"Well, is it Benny himself you miss, or just having someone there for you?" she continued.  
  
"The second one," I admitted. "We had problems, but it was nice having someone in my life. I didn't think I'd ever have that again after I got HIV."  
  
"Tell me about it," Angel sighed. "I don't like to say it, but there are times I can feel my time running out. It's catching up with me, Mimi, and it scares me." I put an arm around her shoulders. "I don't want to be all alone when it happens."  
  
"Well, you won't," I insisted. "I'll be there. And who knows, maybe you'll meet someone fabulous who'll love you more than anything in the world."  
  
"And maybe you will too," she replied. "Maybe one night we'll both find those special someones."  
  
I tried to smile. I'd just about given up on that. Angel was all I had, and one day, I'd lose her too. I hated thinking about that, but in all reality, she had less time than I did. "Maybe you're right."  
  
"You don't sound so sure about that," Angel said to me. "You have to have faith, Mimi. That's the only thing that can help us now."  
  
"I know," I sighed. "It's just hard sometimes. I'm not even nineteen yet, and I have no family, no friends except for you, nothing except for a smack problem and a disease that probably won't let me see my twentieth birthday."  
  
"Whatever happened to your family?" she asked. "You don't talk about them much."  
  
"Oh, I'm sure my brothers have disowned me by now," I shrugged. "I was enough of a disappointment to them even before I ran away."  
  
"You're still their baby sister," Angel insisted. "And what about your mother?"  
  
I stared down at the floor, too ashamed to look at anyone. "She doesn't know what happened to me. Maybe it's better that way."  
  
Angel placed a hand on my back. "You miss her, don't you?"  
  
I nodded miserably. I hadn't been able to think of my mother since I left home, and now here I was, picturing her sitting in her rocking chair, staring out the window at the dirty streets of our Jersey City neighborhood, not knowing if her youngest daughter was alive or dead. I wanted to go sit on her lap like I had when I was a little girl, and hear her whisper words of comfort in Spanish as she soothed my scraped knee or hurt feelings when the neighborhood boys teased me.  
  
"I can't go see her," I mumbled miserably. "It would break her heart to know this is how I turned out."  
  
"Turned out how?" Angel questioned. "You're a beautiful woman who's a lot stronger than she gives herself credit for."  
  
I shook my head. "I can't. I just can't."  
  
She started to say something, then changed her mind, and held up a tall black pair of boots. "Wouldn't these go great with my black dress?"  
  
"And even better with my skirt!" I exclaimed, making a playful grab at them.  
  
"No way, girl, I saw them first!" she grinned. "Besides, they're too big for you."  
  
"They are not!" I made another grab for them, but she was able to hold them above her head and out of my reach.  
  
"I'll let you wear them on the weekend if I can wear them to Life Support tomorrow night," she offered.  
  
I laughed and hugged her. "It's a deal."  
  
I gathered up our purchases and followed her to the cash register.  
  
  
  
It took me three weeks to scrape up the nerve to go. It was December now, and Christmas decorations were up all around the city. I'd always loved the holidays when I was a child, and even now, with everything that had been going on in my life, I couldn't help feeling a little hopeful every time I saw a Christmas wreath or candy canes painted on a store window. This was the holiday season, after all. Peace on earth, good will to men, and all that. What better time for the prodigal daughter to return home?  
  
Angel lent me her gray skirt and offered to come with me. As much as I would have liked her company, I told her I'd be better off going by myself. My return was going to be shock enough for my poor mother. I couldn't imagine what she would do if I showed up accompanied by a drag queen.  
  
The train ride out to Jersey City was long and tedious. Twice we had to stop for the tracks to be repaired, which was both relieving, in that I could delay this, even if only for ten minutes, and aggravating in that I was growing more nervous by the minute. All I wanted was for this stupid thing to be over with, so I could go home and sleep until noon the next day.  
  
My old neighborhood was just as it was when I left three years ago. Had it really only been three years? I had played on these streets, jumped hopscotch with the other girls and dreamed of the day I would leave this slum, and of the day I would come back, triumphant, waving to all the little girls who huddled together on the sidewalks and whispered to each other in awe.  
  
No one was outside today. A few white flakes were beginning to fall from the sky, the first snowfall of the year. I held my coat tightly around myself and tried not to shiver. It was a long walk uphill from the subway station. I'd forgotten just how steep it was.  
  
My heart was pounding as I walked up the steps to the familiar gray apartment building. You can do it, Mimi, I told myself. And you'll feel better when you get this over with.  
  
I raised my hand and rapped twice on the door.  
  
No answer. I knocked again, louder this time. Still nothing. Just fantastic. She had probably left for the holidays, to spend them with Maria and her family, and I'd made this trip out here for nothing. The snow was continuing to fall, and I hoped I could get back into the city before the trains stopped.  
  
Just as I started down the steps, I heard the door creak open. "Quien es? Que quieres?" a woman's voice demanded.  
  
"Mama," I whispered, turning around to face her. "Mama, es yo."  
  
Her forehead wrinkled in thought. "Mimi?"  
  
"That's right, Mama," I managed to say. "Yo te vuelto."  
  
It was impossible to read the expression on her face. She might embrace me and take me inside, or she might disown me then and there. Then I saw the tears in her eyes, and she held out her arms to me. She held me tightly to her as we stood there on the front step, in the cold, both crying our eyes out until there were no tears left.  
  
"Por que esta aqui?" she asked, when we'd finally broken away and gone inside, where she went into the kitchen to make a pot of tea. "Why did you come back?"  
  
Here it was. The hardest part wasn't over, after all. "Mama, I have to tell you something," I began. "I'm very sick."  
  
"Enfirma?" She reached over and felt my forehead. "Stay for a few days, rest, then you'll be better."  
  
I shook my head. "Not that kind of sick, Mama," I said softly. "This is a different kind of illness, and I'm not going to get better."  
  
Her face turned pale. "Cancer?"  
  
"Not cancer." I shook my head again. "I have AIDS."  
  
"Dios Mio," she whispered, making the sign of the cross. "Ay, dulce Santa Maria..."  
  
"I'm so sorry," I managed to choke out, and then I was crying again. "Lo siento, mami. I never wanted to hurt you."  
  
She came over to my chair and pressed my head against her chest. "Mimi, m'ija..." she whispered. "Mi dulce chiquitita..." It didn't take much to discern that she was crying too.  
  
I don't know how long we sat with our arms around each other, crying together. At some point I remember it getting dark, and Mama leading me back to the bedroom I had occupied as a child, tucking a blanket around me and singing a song in Spanish she used to sing me to sleep with every night.  
  
The next morning I took the train back into New York. I still didn't have a boyfriend, and I still had HIV. But at least I wasn't as alone anymore. 


	8. 8

Author's Notes:  
  
Come on, guys. I know the site's been down for ages, and my posting on the weekend probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, but one review? It's rather discouraging.  
  
Okay, end of lecture. On to the legal things. In this chapter, I FINALLY catch up to the events of "Rent". Which also means, the appearance of Roger! He is not mine, and neither are any of the other characters except Kenny, who no one would want anyhow. Also: there are bits of dialogue in here that are not mine. What sounds familiar is Jonathan Larson's. What doesn't, is mine.  
  
  
  
The first thing I noticed when I woke up on Christmas Eve was that my heat had been turned off. Oh, tidings of comfort and joy, I thought bitterly to myself as I leapt out of bed and dressed as quickly as I could. Merry Christmas, Mimi Marquez.  
  
I didn't have to work for the next two days--Robbie always closed the club over Christmas, not because of any spiritual reason, but because all the customers spent the holiday with their families. I'd been looking forward to spending my time off curled up at home under a blanket, catching up on the sleep I'd been missing out on for months.  
  
That didn't seem as much fun now that my apartment was a few degrees above freezing.  
  
Finally I threw on my coat and walked six blocks over to the Food Emporium. I still had about twenty dollars left from my last paycheck, and I was just about out of food at my place. I stayed in the supermarket as long as I could, pretending to agonize over whether I wanted a blueberry or cranberry muffin and warming up as best I could. Even so, it was a long, cold walk back to Avenue B.  
  
On my way back, I saw that Kenny had set up operation in the park. It was sad, really, I thought to myself, watching the desperate addicts follow the dealer around like puppies. Heroin had completely consumed their lives, and for what? Standing outside in the freezing cold, on Christmas Eve, unable to think of anyone but themselves or any farther than their next fix.  
  
The saddest thing of all was that I wasn't better than any of them.  
  
"Mimi, sweetheart." Kenny caught my eye and grinned. "Feel like indulging in a little holiday festivity?"  
  
He held up a baggie filled with the familiar white powder. I swallowed, feeling the all too familiar battle rage inside. My addiction won, as always. I reached for the bag. "How much?"  
  
"For you, a little Christmas sale," he answered, holding the bag just out of reach. "Ten bucks."  
  
I handed him a wrinkled bill, took the smack, and fled.  
  
The temperature in my apartment dropped sharply after the sun went down, if that was even possible. I wrapped myself in my blanket, huddled on the sofa, and tried to stay warm. Why the hell would the power company have shut off my heat today, of all days? I quickly realized another effect of having my power shut off. There was almost no light in my apartment, except the bit of moonlight that came in through my tiny window.  
  
This was just ridiculous. Was I really going to spend Christmas Eve sitting in the dark in my unheated apartment, trying desperately to keep warm? I didn't think so.  
  
But first I needed to warm up. There were a couple of newspapers I could burn, as well as some old clothes that had gotten too worn out to wear in public anymore. I threw them into a trash can, then rummaged around in the darkness for my matches.  
  
And couldn't find them. Shit. The best I could find was a candle, which wasn't much use unlit. Just fantastic.  
  
You know, Mimi, my brain told me. You could ask your neighbors for some matches.  
  
Why didn't I think of that before?  
  
I must have knocked on every door on my floor, but no one answered. Figured. Who would want to hang around this place on Christmas unless they had to? Half an hour passed, and I'd had no luck at all. I'll try one more place, I told myself, then I'll give up.  
  
I knocked on a door, then stood back and waited.  
  
Abruptly the door swung open, revealing a man with bleached blond hair and wearing plaid pajama pants. He didn't look at me as he stepped aside and asked "What'd you forget?"  
  
Apparently he was expecting someone else. Unabashed, I stepped inside and held out my candle to him. "Got a light?"  
  
That time he did look at me. "I know you," he remarked quietly. "You're.you're shivering."  
  
I flashed a smile at him and tried to stop trembling. "It's nothing," I assured him. "They turned off my heat, and I'm just a little weak on my feet." I held out my candle again. "Would you light my candle?" He was still gaping at me with that peculiar expression on his face. "What are you staring at?"  
  
"Nothing." He looked away quickly. Then he looked back at me. "Your hair in the moonlight...you look familiar." He took a box of matches out of his pocket and lit my candle. I smiled sweetly at him, then started to leave, stumbling on my way out. "Can you make it?"  
  
I was too embarrassed to look at him. "Just haven't eaten much today," I tried to explain. It sounded weak even to me. "At least the room's stopped spinning, anyway." When I finally worked up the nerve to look at him again, I saw he was staring at me. "What?"  
  
It was his turn to look embarrassed. "Nothing. Your smile reminded me of--"  
  
"I always remind people of," I interrupted, smiling again. "Who is she?"  
  
Sadness flickered across his face, and I regretted having asked. "She died. Her name was April."  
  
I could have sworn I'd heard that name before. In any case, I was in over my head, so I blew out the candle when he wasn't looking. "It's out again." Then I realized I should say something, anything. "Sorry about your friend." Better. "Would you light my candle?"  
  
He fished out another match and lit it. He was cute, I thought, watching his face in the candlelight. Sad, though. I wished there was something I could do to make him smile. I'd bet he had a really gorgeous smile.  
  
"Well." he began awkwardly.  
  
I tried a seductive smile this time. "Yeah.ow!"  
  
The wax had dripped down my candle and onto my hand. Damn, that stung. He looked suspiciously like he was trying not to laugh. "Oh, the wax, it's--"  
  
"Dripping!" I interrupted again. If I could convince him I'd done that on purpose, I might not look so stupid. "I like it between my--"  
  
"Fingers!" he exclaimed. I think we both knew that wasn't what I was going to say. "I figured. Oh, well, goodnight."  
  
I didn't get it. Had I said something wrong? Or maybe something was up with him instead. In any case, I knew when I was beaten. I took my candle, which was burning brightly, and made a dignified exit.  
  
It wasn't until I was out in the hall that I realized my little bag of smack was missing. Fuck. I made a search of the hall. Nothing. I knew it wasn't in my apartment because I'd had it when I set out. I must have dropped it inside that guy's apartment. And then I realized the candle had gone out. Great. Just wonderful. I had no choice but to knock on the door again.  
  
He didn't look all that surprised to see me. "It blew out again?"  
  
"No." I scanned the floor for the bag of powder. "I think that I dropped my stash."  
  
He didn't seem that phased by my words. "I know I've seen you out and about, when I used to go out." He glanced over at the candle I was still clutching. "Your candle's out."  
  
"I'm illing, I had it when I walked through the door." I was talking to myself more than to him, but I didn't particularly care. "It was pure.is it on the floor?"  
  
I dropped to all fours and began looking under the table. Even from that position, I could tell he was staring at me. I always knew when guys did that.  
  
He tried to sound surprised. "The floor?"  
  
I whirled around and gave him my most seductive smile. "They say I have the best ass below Fourteenth Street," I informed him. "Is it true?"  
  
He laughed a little at that. God, he had a great laugh. "What?"  
  
I turned back around to find him watching in rapt attention. "You're staring again," I informed him.  
  
"Oh, no," he protested. "I mean, you do. Have a nice, I mean.you look familiar."  
  
"Like your dead girlfriend," I agreed, still searching for the damn smack.  
  
"Only when you smile," he amended. "But I'm sure I've seen you somewhere else."  
  
Well, it was certainly possible. "Do you go to the Cat Scratch Club?" He already knew I was a junkie, may as well tell him everything, I figured to myself. "That's where I work. I dance." Still no sign of the smack. "Help me look!" I pleaded.  
  
"Yes!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "They used to tie you up--"  
  
I shrugged and tried to pretend I didn't care. "It's a living."  
  
"I didn't recognize you without the handcuffs," he continued.  
  
I didn't like the way this conversation was going. "We could light the candle," I pleaded, hoping to change the subject. "Won't you light my candle?"  
  
I held out the candle, and he lit it yet again. He was being a very good sport about this, I thought to myself.  
  
"Why don't you forget that stuff?" he asked. Ah, yes, a lecture on the evils of drugs. Just what I needed. "You look like you're sixteen."  
  
I knew I looked young, but I hated being reminded of it. "I'm nineteen," I informed him. "But I'm old for my age. I'm just born to be bad."  
  
He nodded. "I once was born to be bad." What the hell? "I used to shiver like that--"  
  
"I have no heat, I told you!" I butted in. How was that my fault?  
  
It was like he hadn't even heard me. "I used to sweat--"  
  
"I got a cold!" Okay, maybe not now, but I would if my heat didn't come on soon.  
  
"Uh-huh." He nodded again. God, I hated how nonchalant he was being about this. "I used to be a junkie."  
  
"But now and then I like to." I was aware of how weak that sounded even as I said it.  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"Feel good," I finished lamely. Hopefully he'd let it drop now.  
  
"Oh, here--" He bent over and picked up something that had fallen under the table."  
  
I stepped toward him. "What's that?"  
  
He quickly put it behind his back and stuffed it into his pocket. "Candy bar wrapper."  
  
Yeah, right. I had little chance of him admitting it, though, and even less of him actually giving it to me. I'd have to try a different tactic. "Would you light my candle?" In response, he gave a little puff and the tiny flame flickered out. "Oh, what'd you do with my candle?"  
  
He held up his hands helplessly and sat down on the table. "That was my last match."  
  
I sat down next to him. "Our eyes will adjust. Thank God for the moon."  
  
"Maybe it's not the moon at all." He glanced out the window, and back at me. "I hear Spike Lee's shooting down the street."  
  
How the hell was I supposed to create a romantic atmosphere with this guy? You're making this rather difficult, I mentally told him. "Bah, humbug."  
  
His hand was resting on his leg. I slipped mine underneath his, pretending it was an accident. "Cold hands."  
  
His weren't exactly warm either. "Yours too," I answered. "Big, like my father's." I hadn't thought of Papa in years, and I found myself wanting to cry. He must be weeping in heaven at the sight of me, I thought miserably.  
  
But I wasn't about to cry. Not in front of this guy. I leapt off the table. "You want to dance?"  
  
I don't know why he looked so surprised. "With you?"  
  
Was there anyone else in the room? I couldn't resist. "No, with my father."  
  
Then he smiled. I was right: it was gorgeous. "I'm Roger."  
  
I wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed my body close to his. He was too busy smiling at me to notice my hand going into his pocket. "They call me." Almost got it. "They call me Mimi."  
  
My hand closed on the bag, and I yanked it out, pushing Roger away before I smiled triumphantly at him and ran from the room. 


	9. 9

Author's Notes:  
  
Same as before, some of the dialogue isn't mine. Some is, however, because I thought having Mimi and Roger speak in rhyme for the whole chapter would sound rather silly after awhile. There's a little bit of Angel in this chapter, and I promise more later, since she seems to be everyone's favorite. I had a lot of fun with this chapter, I'm actually proud of it, and I'll love you forever if you review.  
  
Sashay--when are you going to post the next part of After The Fall? I love that story, and I've been waiting forever for it!  
  
Rinny--Thanks for your comments. I adore your stories, and can't wait to see more of them!  
  
  
  
I hadn't even made it back to my apartment before I started to regret running out like that. What was I thinking? It had been rude, yeah, but I wasn't as concerned with that as I was with the fact that I'd met a cute guy, who seemed sweet, and who was obviously interested in me as well. And I'd run out on him? Mimi, what were you thinking?  
  
Well, I couldn't go back there now. Not like this, anyhow. I'd blown my chance there, and if I wanted a second chance, I'd have to earn it.  
  
I changed my clothes quickly, since I was still without heat. My shiny blue pants, which I'd gotten at the Waldorf Hysteria last week on a shopping trip with Angel, and still hadn't worn. My favorite silver top. And for good measure, a sprinkling of glitter in my hair. I smiled at my reflection in the mirror. Let's see any man resist me now, I thought triumphantly.  
  
When I went to knock on Roger's door again, I was completely confidant. So much so that I didn't bother with knocking, and simply flung the door open.  
  
  
  
Ten minutes later I was back out in the hall, alone and with my tail between my legs. I couldn't believe it. He'd turned me down flat. I'd never had that happen before. I'd tried every trick I knew, and I could have sworn I'd had him when I leapt up on the table and kissed him. But no.  
  
Well, who needed him? I thought to myself. It wasn't like I wasn't capable of picking up anyone else just because one man turned me down. I'd go out, and I'd find someone cuter and nicer and who knew how to have fun, unlike that sourpuss. It wasn't like he was the only single guy left in New York. It was his loss, after all.  
  
I was halfway out of the building when I realized I'd left my stash back in Roger's apartment. "Shit," I muttered to myself. Just when I needed it, too. Now I'd have to find Kenny and buy more. Just fantastic.  
  
He wasn't too difficult to spot. I located him almost right away when I got to St. Mark's Place, noting, as always, the crowd that followed him. I sighed to myself and went to join them.  
  
It was crazy. People were begging for just about every substance imaginable, crying, pleading for whatever they needed for their fix. It was almost my turn when I heard someone tug on my coat sleeve.  
  
It was Roger. "Hey."  
  
I shrugged. "Hey."  
  
"I just want to say." He looked nervous, and if he hadn't embarrassed me so badly before, I would have felt sorry for him. "I'm sorry for the way--"  
  
Whatever. "Forget it."  
  
It was like I hadn't said anything. "I blew up," he finished. "Can I make it up to you?"  
  
I rolled my eyes. "How?"  
  
He offered a small smile. "Dinner party?"  
  
How did he know that I was starving? Fine, but this had better be good. "That'll do."  
  
Roger took my arm and we started off, only to be interrupted by Kenny, who had been watching the scene. "Hey, lover boy," my dealer sneered. "You steal my client, you die!"  
  
Roger wasn't phased at all as he put his arm around my shoulders and stared defiantly back at Kenny. "You didn't miss me, and you won't miss her!" he retorted. "You'll never lack for customers."  
  
I started to giggle as Roger and I walked off. "Hey," he protested. "What's so funny?"  
  
"Do you always talk in rhyme?" I asked, going off into another little burst of smothered laughter. "Or is this just to impress me?"  
  
He looked a little thrown off by my comment. Obviously no one had teased him in a long time. I resolved to do it as much as possible. "Hey, I'm a songwriter," he shrugged. "Force of habit."  
  
"Well, I think it's cute," I told him, enjoying how he blushed. "Where are we going to dinner?"  
  
"Life Café. I hope you're hungry." He ran a hand through his hair. "My friend's friend came into some money, so he's treating us all." He beckoned to a small blond man, who came over to join us. "This is my roommate Mark."  
  
Mark looked familiar. Of course he would, if we lived in the same apartment building. It was only natural that we'd run into each other now and then. Then I saw the camera in his hand and it came to me. I'd caught him filming me a couple of times, mostly when I went out to work. I was never mad, because he looked harmless, and besides, it was fun to see him almost fall down the stairs when I suddenly spun around and blew a kiss toward the camera.  
  
"Mark, this is Mimi," Roger continued. "She'll be dining with us."  
  
"Hi," we said together.  
  
Now it was Mark's turn to stare at me. "I think we've met."  
  
I tried not to notice as Roger did a little imitation of my handcuff dance, and Mark's eyes widened with recognition.  
  
I sighed. Boys.  
  
A few snowflakes fluttered down from the sky. I turned my face upwards, watching in delight as the white flakes danced down from the heavens.  
  
"We're going to the lot first, okay?" Roger asked me.  
  
"Maureen's performing," Mark added.  
  
The name didn't ring a bell. "Who's Maureen?"  
  
Roger nodded toward Mark. "His ex."  
  
"But I'm over her!" Mark added quickly. He caught Roger's skeptical look. "Really, I am!"  
  
What was I supposed to say to that? "Well, I'm sure it'll be a fine performance." I took my hand out of my jacket pocket and slipped it into Roger's. He pulled away almost immediately.  
  
"Let's not hold hands yet," he mumbled, looking obviously uncomfortable.  
  
"Is that a warning?" I shot back before I could think. I was sorry almost immediately. He obviously had relationship issues and wanted to take this slowly. On the other hand, he'd invited me to dinner. Not the other way around.  
  
I didn't want to fight about this right now. "All right," I gave in, returning my hand to my jacket pocket. The three of us walked in silence to the 11th street lot.  
  
  
  
We arrived just as Maureen started her performance. She looked familiar too, probably because she'd lived in the loft with Mark before she left him. For another woman, Roger whispered to me. That one, right over there. He gestured to a tall black woman who was sitting in a folding chair beside the sound equipment. "Mark's still a little sore about that."  
  
The performance was.interesting to say the least. Maureen made up in enthusiasm what she lacked in talent, and she was obviously so passionate about what she was doing that no one dared snicker or laugh, at least, not where she could see them.  
  
"I've got to get out of here!" she screamed suddenly, causing me to jump slightly. I tugged on Roger's jacket. "Is she always like this?" I whispered in his ear.  
  
He shook his head. "This is a special occasion," he whispered back. "Usually she's a lot worse than this."  
  
I bit my lip to keep from giggling and returned my attention to the protest.  
  
"Then, a little bulldog entered," Maureen continued. "His name, we have learned, was Benny, and although he once had principles, he abandoned them to live as a lapdog to a wealthy daughter of the revolution." There was more after that, including an uncanny impression that would have had me screaming in laughter if I hadn't been so nervous.  
  
Benny was *here*? Why? What on earth for? I hadn't seen him since our breakup three months ago, and I didn't particularly want to see him now. Or for him to see me either, for that matter. I hugged my knees to my chest and tried to hide behind Roger as much as I could.  
  
The performance ended with a bang, as Maureen led the crowd of spectators in a chorus of mooing. I felt a bit awkward at first, but there was something about Maureen's enthusiasm that was contagious. Besides, the louder I mooed, the more Roger blushed.  
  
He really was adorable when he was embarrassed.  
  
We all went as a group down to the Life Café. Mark got stopped by the waiter, but Roger and I were allowed to go ahead and sit down. He pulled a chair out for me, but I had to take off my coat myself. Still, half was better than none.  
  
"Mimi, honey, hi!" Angel greeted me, sitting down in a nearby chair. "What are you doing here?"  
  
I gestured to Roger, who was apparently absorbed in a spot on the table. "Roger invited me."  
  
Angel gave him an approving glance. "He's cute."  
  
"Angel!" I laughed. "I see you've got someone too."  
  
"I most certainly do." She tapped her partner's shoulder. "Honey, this is my friend Mimi. Mimi, this is Tom Collins."  
  
"Hi, Mimi." He had a firm handshake and a nice voice. "It's nice to meet you."  
  
I chatted with them for the next few minutes. Roger was ignoring me anyhow, and Collins was a very nice guy. It turned out he'd been roommates with Mark, Roger, Benny, and Maureen. Did everyone here know each other already?  
  
Then I saw him, sitting at a nearby table and talking with a man I figured to be his father-in-law. I'd been in the middle of recounting something funny Angel had said last week, and I stopped mid-sentence as I stared helplessly over at Benny, who thankfully, hadn't spotted me yet.  
  
Angel patted my hand. "Mimi, what's wrong?"  
  
"Benny's here," I whispered. "What's Benny doing here?"  
  
She gave my arm an understanding squeeze. "It looks like he's got a lot on his mind," she suggested hopefully. "Maybe he won't notice you're here."  
  
I risked a glance back over at him. Now he and Maureen had gotten into a bit of a spat and were hurling insults toward each other. I allowed myself to relax a little. Maybe Angel was right after all.  
  
Then I heard Benny's voice say my name, and immediately tensed up again. "Mimi, I'm surprised," he said sadly, shaking his head in disbelief. "A bright and charming girl like you hangs out with these slackers--" he broke away and glared at Mark and Roger. Mark smiled innocently back at him. Roger sent a fierce glare in Benny's direction. Fortunately, for me, anyhow, the conversation quickly shifted toward unpaid rent and broken deals. Maybe I could make it through this after all.  
  
Dinner was so-so. The food was great, like it always was, but Roger all but ignored me. About halfway through, everyone started getting a little frisky. Maureen mooned Benny and Mr. Grey, much to the delight of everyone at our table. Angel and I leapt up onto the table and performed a little salute to leather and dildos. Mark gleefully orchestrated an impromptu tribute to Bohemia.  
  
I was just getting into it when I felt someone pull me aside. "Your new boyfriend doesn't know about us?"  
  
Shit. He'd seen that I was with Roger. Although how he could have deduced that, when Roger had barely spoken two words to me since we arrived, I had no idea. I was feeling hurt, and angry, and that made me more defensive with Benny than I really should have been. "There's nothing to know."  
  
His grip on my arm tightened. "Don't you think that we should discuss--"  
  
I pulled away. "It was three months ago!"  
  
Benny glanced over at Roger, who was busy plucking out notes on his electric guitar. "He doesn't act like he's with you."  
  
Did he have to remind me of that? Benny usually wasn't the type to kick someone when they were down, but he was obviously upset at me or at Roger or at both of us.  
  
"We're taking it slow," I informed him, hoping to convince myself as well.  
  
Benny raised an eyebrow, and it was obvious he didn't believe me. "Where is he now?"  
  
I sighed. "He's right--" But he wasn't. Roger had disappeared in the last thirty seconds, and now I had no idea where to find him. "Hey, where'd he go?"  
  
I spun around and walked away from Benny at that point, feeling a tiny glow of satisfaction. The only one of the whole night, so far. Then I saw Roger, in the middle of the party again, playing a rather fucked up version of Musetta's Waltz. At least he hadn't ditched me altogether, I thought, although I could get little comfort from that.  
  
I went to confront him as soon as he finished. "Did I do something wrong?" I demanded. "First you invite me, then you ignore me?"  
  
"I've been trying!" he protested. "No one's perfect. I've got baggage."  
  
Oh, please. Whatever it was, it couldn't possibly be worse than mine. "Life's too short, Roger," I informed him. "I'm looking for baggage that goes with mine."  
  
"I should tell you," he muttered to himself. Did he ever listen to a word I said?  
  
"I've got baggage too!" I repeated, louder this time. He'd have to be either deaf or flat out ignoring me not to hear it that time.  
  
A shrill series of beeps interrupted me, and I quickly turned my beeper. "AZT break," I announced, fishing the bottle of pills out of my coat pocket. Someone passed me a bottle of water and I took a swig, gulping down two of the little capsules.  
  
Roger was staring at me when I looked back at him. His eyes had so many questions, but all he could do was point at my pill bottle. "You?"  
  
I nodded slowly. "Me. You?"  
  
"Mimi." His voice was softer than I'd heard it all evening. "I didn't know, and I thought that you didn't know, and we--"  
  
I put a finger to his lips. "Now we know," I said softly. "It's okay now."  
  
Roger took my hands in his. I was surprised at how warm they were. "Mimi, I'm scared," he whispered. "It's been so long that I don't know how to do this anymore."  
  
I squeezed his hands tightly. "I'm scared too," I admitted. "But I think what we might have here is worth the risk."  
  
"So do I." We stood in silence for a few moments, staring into each others eyes. A few more flakes of snow drifted down. I could almost hear our hearts beating, in rhythm and equally terrified. It was Roger who broke the spell, bringing one hand to my face and stroking my cheek gently. "You want to get out of here?"  
  
I nodded. He put his arm around me and we started back up Avenue B. When we reached our apartment building, I fumbled for my keys, but Roger stopped me. "I have a better idea," he told me, grabbing my hand and leading me over to the fire escape. He had to jump a few times, but finally succeeded in catching the bottom rung and pulling it down.  
  
We climbed up the stairs until we reached the top, right next to his apartment. Down the street at the café, the party was still going on. The snow was falling a bit heavier now, and the park had all but turned white. "It's beautiful," I whispered.  
  
Roger smiled and pulled me to him. Everything was forgotten as I felt his arms go about me, and his lips come down on mine. 


	10. 10

Author's Notes:  
  
This is another chapter I'm proud of, which I think under Rentfic rules means it'll suck and everyone will hate it. :P Anyhow, um, please review anyhow, it makes me feel loved and gives me hope that people will follow me through all the way to the end of this huge beast of a fic. Rinny(Kate?), can I take you up on that promise to write more? And Sashay, I need more After the Fall. Lola, that applies to you too. Must.have.fic.  
  
  
  
"You know, you're absolutely adorable when you're soaking wet," my boyfriend informed me, attempting to lift up my towel with his foot.  
  
I stepped away and swatted playfully at his leg. "You're insatiable, Roger Davis," I sighed. "Can't you last longer than half an hour?"  
  
"But I don't wanna wait," he whined.  
  
"Well, you'll just have to," I told him firmly. "I have to work tonight, and I'll be late enough as it is without you helping."  
  
He pouted, looking up at me with those wounded little-boy eyes. "But I'll be so lonely without you."  
  
I stepped into my closet and slipped on my bathrobe before emerging again, using the towel to dry my hair. "I'll miss you too, my little chuleta," I informed him, curling up next to him on the bed. "But I'll be off by midnight, and we'll have the rest of the night to ourselves."  
  
"Why won't you tell me what that means?" Roger whined. "You're always saying all this stuff in Spanish and you never translate any of it!"  
  
I laughed and kissed the wrinkle in his forehead. "Chiquitita, you make too much out of this," I scolded him playfully.  
  
"There you go again!" he complained. "Okay, that does it, I'm going to look it up."  
  
"How?" I grinned, enjoying the sight of him running around the room in his boxers, looking for his pants.  
  
"Mark has a Spanish/English dictionary somewhere upstairs," he answered, dropping to his knees and peering under the bed. "Where the hell did my jeans go?"  
  
I sat up and plucked them off the lampshade, tucking them into a ball and throwing them at his head. Roger rolled his eyes. "Very funny."  
  
He tugged them on and dashed upstairs. I reluctantly got up and began getting dressed for work. If I didn't do this while Roger was gone, I'd have to put up with him stealing items of my clothing and holding them ransom until I kissed him. Which was pleasant, true, but I'd been late for work twice this week, and Robbie wasn't happy with me at the moment.  
  
It had been quite a week, to say the least. When Roger and I came down from the fire escape on Christmas Eve, we'd discovered that Benny had padlocked the front door so no one could get in. Roger was pissed as hell, convinced that Benny had done it to get back at him and Mark for not paying their rent. But he'd *promised*, Roger told me. Benny had sworn up and down that he would never charge his former roommates to live in their apartment.  
  
I had my own theory on this. Benny hadn't been happy to find Roger and me together, and I had a feeling he was still sore about our own breakup, even though three months had passed by. I didn't tell Roger this-- who in their right mind tells their brand new boyfriend of two hours about all the other guys she's dated, especially when said boyfriend is furious at said ex-boyfriend? So I sympathized with Roger's outrage, and promised that something would work out.  
  
And it did, to an extent. Mark went to stay with Maureen, who was more than happy to have either the company, or the opportunity to make her now ex-girlfriend Joanne jealous. I hadn't seen Angel since dinner at the cafe, but I had a feeling she and Collins were having a pretty good time themselves.  
  
So Roger and I were left without anywhere to stay. We spent the better part of an hour huddled together outside the café, me shivering to keep warm, Roger bitching about Benny. I can't remember whose idea it was to climb back up the fire escape and break into the building, but it worked very nicely. The heat had been turned back on, and we had the entire building to ourselves. We were free to go wild, and neither one of us was the type to waste such an opportunity. We'd made love in the elevators, in the stairwell, even down in the laundry room.  
  
I was happy. For the first time in a long time, since I'd broken up with Benny, since I'd been diagnosed with HIV, even since my father had died, I had something and someone to live for. I couldn't describe it, but there was something about Roger that was special.  
  
"My little *pork chop*??" I turned around to see my boyfriend holding up a Spanish/English dictionary, his face caught between indignation and laughter. "You call me your little pork chop?"  
  
"Oh, Roger," I giggled. "It's a term of endearment. My mother called me and my sisters that all the time."  
  
"All right, my little cantaloupe," he grinned. "Anything you say, my little graham cracker."  
  
I laughed and threw a pillow at him. He threw it right back, and the situation quickly escalated into a tickle war.  
  
"Okay, okay!" I managed to gasp between laughter. "You win! Now let me go to work!"  
  
Roger turned those pleading little-boy eyes in my direction. "You promise you'll come right back afterwards?"  
  
"Wild horses couldn't keep me away," I promised, throwing my leather jacket over my shoulders and kissing my boyfriend quickly on the lips. "I'll see you later tonight."  
  
It was five thirty when I left the apartment building, exiting through a back door. I wasn't due at the club for another hour, but there was a stop I needed to make on the way.  
  
  
  
I knew Benny would be in his office. It didn't matter that it was two days from New Years, and just about everyone in New York was at home with their families. It was a Wednesday afternoon, and Benny always worked weekdays. It was both the most endearing and the most obnoxious thing about him.  
  
I knocked on his office door, feeling as shy and nervous as I did on that day so many months ago when I came to beg him to give me more time to pay my rent. "Come in," he called, a trace of annoyance in his voice. This wasn't going to be as easy as I'd hoped.  
  
He stared at me when I came in. "Wow. What's the occasion, Mimi?"  
  
I blushed a little as I stared down at my outfit. Black leather skirt, black lace bra under a see-through shirt, it always resulted in my getting good tips at the club. But it felt different now that I was here, alone with Benny. What was he going to think, with my showing up out of the blue dressed like this?  
  
Then again, it didn't matter what he thought, as long as he listened to what I said.  
  
"Benny, I've come to ask a favor," I began. "Do you have a minute?"  
  
"For you, I have ten," he replied automatically, still staring.  
  
That was easier than I expected. Now came the hard part. "Benny, I know it was really awkward when we saw each other on Christmas Eve," I started hesitantly. "It was the first time we'd seen each other in three months, and you were probably a little jealous that I was with Roger--"  
  
"What do you see in that asshole anyhow?" Benny demanded. "Mimi, he's a loser. You can do so much better for yourself."  
  
"He's not a loser!" I retorted. "And I don't think it's very fair-- or professional," I threw out, remembering how fond he was of that word, "-- to lock all your tenants out just to get back at me for finding a new boyfriend!"  
  
"God, I have *had* it!" he exclaimed, throwing up his hands. "Alison's been bitching at me all week over the damn dog, and now you come in with this preposterous idea that I'm jealous of Roger?"  
  
"Benny, you're not being fair," I insisted. "If you're mad at me, fine, throw me out. I'll find somewhere else to live. But Roger and Mark don't have anything to do with this."  
  
He stood up and glared at me. "You certainly have a high opinion of yourself, don't you, Miss Marquez," he said icily. "Why would you automatically assume this is all about you?"  
  
"Maybe it's not, I don't know," I shrugged. "I'm sorry I wasted your time."  
  
I opened the door. He strode across the room and slammed it shut again.  
  
My heart began pounding faster. "Benny, I have to go to work."  
  
"Surely you can spare a few more minutes for old time's sake." His voice sounded normal, but there was something in his eyes that frightened me.  
  
"I mean it, Benny, I'm going to be late." I reached for the door handle. He grabbed my wrist and flung it away. "Stop it, Benny, you're scaring me!"  
  
"You *bitch*!" he snarled, grabbing me by my shirt and shoving me against the wall. The fragile material tore under his rough grasp. "You think you can walk in here with your sex kitten act and get me all worked up, then waltz out nice as you please?"  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about," I pleaded. "And I don't know what you want, but you're frightening me, Benny. Please let me go."  
  
"You'll go when I say you can go," he spat. His face was twisted and ugly, and although I was searching desperately, I couldn't find any trace of the Benny I knew, who loved to surprise me with flowers and was always, always gentle when he touched me.  
  
He was kissing me now, his mouth pressing down insistently on mine while his hands tore at my clothes. I was trapped. Everyone in the building was home--it was two days before New Years, after all. There was no one to call for help. No one would hear me if I screamed.  
  
Benny grabbed me again, and threw me down on his desk. Office supplies scattered everywhere. He lowered himself on top of me, that ugly look of satisfaction still gleaming in his eyes.  
  
"You pig!" I screamed, thrusting my knee up into his crotch. He shuddered, and halted for a moment. I did it again, and this time, was able to escape from under him and roll off the desk.  
  
"Oh my God, Mimi." he whispered. He looked like the old Benny now, but I still shrunk back. "Mimi, I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me."  
  
"What the fuck were you doing?" I screamed at him.  
  
"I didn't mean to, I swear," he protested. "I've been under so much stress this week, and Alison's been on my case and I never meant to do that. You know I'd never hurt you."  
  
"You almost did, you shit!" I shouted at him, tears streaming down my cheeks. "You fucking tried to rape me!"  
  
He took a few steps toward me. "Mimi, I'm sorry."  
  
"Fuck you, Benny." I kicked him in the shin, as hard as I could. "I'm not your whore."  
  
I stormed out of his office and slammed the door behind me. On the way to work, I stopped by a McDonalds and washed my face and straightened my clothes as best I could. What I really wanted was a long, hot shower, but that would have to wait until after work.  
  
I danced numbly through the next five hours, wanting more than anything to get it over with so I could go home. When I finally arrived back at my apartment, I found Roger asleep, clutching a pillow to his chest and looking so cute that I had to smile, in spite of everything that had happened to me.  
  
I took a shower, staying under the water as long as I could, scrubbing furiously in the hope I could wash the whole ugly experience away. When I got out, I dressed myself in a pair of Roger's boxer shorts and an old shirt of his. The last thing I felt like doing was being sexy.  
  
Roger didn't stir as I climbed into bed next to him, or as I cried myself to sleep. 


	11. 11

Author's Notes: Woot for finally getting over writer's block! I'd been wanting to write this scene since I started this story, and here it is. Finally. I'm not really sure about it, but it's done. Dialogue that sounds familiar isn't mine, it's Jonathan's, thanks to everyone who's commented on this already, and please review, because it makes me happy and inspires me to write.  
  
  
  
I slept late the next morning. My slumber had been uneasy at best, with scenes from the previous evening replaying over and over in my mind. That strange look on Benny's face, the sound my shirt made as he tore it, how the office supplies fell to the floor as he shoved me onto his desk. I would awake with a gasp, a cry muted behind my lips, hot tears stinging my eyes. And then I would see Roger beside me, and curl up closer to him, feeling safe as his arms automatically went around me. Everything was all right. At least, until the next dream.  
  
When I finally got up, the sun was all the way over to the bed, where it beat down on my face. Someone had yanked the covers off of my feet, and when I peered over there, my eyes still squinting from the bright light, I saw Roger tickling them with a feather, an impish expression on his face.  
  
"Hey!" I exclaimed, reaching for my pillow and taking a swing in his direction. He avoided it easily, still holding the damn feather, still laughing at me.  
  
"I thought you'd never get up," he grinned triumphantly.  
  
"You're mean!" I whined. "Didn't your mother ever tell you it's rude to tickle a girl when she's asleep?"  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Then it wouldn't be rude for me to tickle her when she was awake?"  
  
"Don't you dare," I told him. "Not before I've had my coffee."  
  
"Oh, all right," he gave in. He handed me a Styrofoam cup from the table. "Here. I got you this while you were asleep. And doughnuts too, if you're hungry."  
  
Damn him, how *did* he manage to look that cute? "I can't stay mad at you when you're like this!" I complained.  
  
"Good." He handed me a chocolate covered, cream filled doughnut. "Now eat this. You're too skinny."  
  
I crossed my arms. "And what if I say no?"  
  
"Then I'm afraid you can't have your dessert afterwards," my boyfriend informed me, a sly grin on his face.  
  
"Oh, all right," I pouted, taking a bite of the doughnut. "Although I have to say I'd like this cream in.other ways."  
  
"After you eat," he restated firmly.  
  
"You're so mean," I mumbled, my mouth full of pastry.  
  
"I saw Mark and Maureen while I was out," Roger told me, taking a swallow of his own coffee. "They said to tell everyone that we're going to have a New Years party tonight to break back into the building."  
  
I swallowed. "What? But." I gestured around the room. "We did that a week ago."  
  
"Ah, but they don't know that," Roger grinned. "Do we really want to spoil the fun for them?"  
  
"Hell no," I agreed. "Why ruin the party?"  
  
Roger climbed onto the bed next to me and wrapped his arms around my waist. "That's my girl," he whispered in my ear.  
  
I took a few hasty bites of my doughnut and washed them down with the remainder of my coffee. "Can I have my dessert now?" I pleaded.  
  
He pushed my hair back and began kissing my neck. His touch was soft and gentle, and so completely different from how Benny's had been a mere sixteen hours ago. I could do this. I could get through anything as long as I had this man beside me.  
  
We met Mark at the corner of 10th Street and Avenue A at quarter till twelve that night. Roger and I brought a bottle of champagne we'd bought on our way there. Mark brought his camera. None of us had thought to bring any burglary tools.  
  
Roger and I broke out the champagne five minutes after we got to the building. We weren't working very well, I had to admit. Roger was supposed to be trying to pick the padlock with his Swiss Army knife, but wasn't having much luck. It probably didn't help that I was whispering suggestive comments in his ear every thirty seconds or so. "How long till next year?" I asked him.  
  
He glanced at his watch. "Three and a half minutes."  
  
"I'm going to be a new person," I declared. "No more smack, no more bad company. I mean it. I think it's gonna be a happy new year."  
  
Mark emerged from where he had been standing lookout. "Coast is clear." He snatched the bottle of champagne away from me. "You're supposed to be working. That's for midnight. Where are they? There isn't much time."  
  
"Maybe they're dressing?" I suggested. "I mean, what does one wear that's apropos for a party that's also a crime?"  
  
Roger snickered. "Now who's talking in rhyme?"  
  
I flicked a bit of champagne at him. "Quiet, you."  
  
What would have escalated into a champagne fight was broken up by Maureen's arrival. She was wearing a skintight cat costume, and carrying a bag of potato chips. I wasn't that surprised by her attire. Maureen, Roger had told me, loved to dress up in costume.  
  
She held the bag out to us. "Chips anyone?"  
  
Mark rolled his eyes. "You can take the girl out of Hicksville, but you can't take the Hicksville out of the girl."  
  
"My riot got you on TV!" Maureen exclaimed indignantly. "I deserve a royalty."  
  
"Be nice, you two," I lectured them. "Or no godawful champagne."  
  
She grabbed the bottle and took a swig. "Don't mind if I do. No luck?"  
  
Roger shook his head. "Bolted plywood, padlocked with a chain. A total dead end."  
  
Maureen made a face. "Just like my ex-girlfriend."  
  
Roger rolled his eyes as Maureen took out a cell phone and dialed her girlfriend's number. She wasn't more than thirty seconds into it before Joanne showed up, bringing a coil of rope with her. The two of them went off with Mark to climb up the fire escape, leaving me and Roger giggling together because they were about to attempt what we'd been doing all week.  
  
"I think I should be laughing," Roger told me, squeezing me around the shoulders. "I'm not sure I remember how. It's been so long since I've felt like this, and to tell the truth, it's a little scary."  
  
"I'm scared too," I confessed. "But I'm a lot less scared when you're here."  
  
He kissed me lightly. "I think it's going to be a happy new year."  
  
I smiled at him. "Me too."  
  
Just then, Collins and Angel made their entrance. I hadn't seen them all week, which wasn't that surprising, considering they were a brand new couple, same as Roger and me. Angel was wearing the silvery plastic dress she'd been working on, and a blonde wig she'd bought on our last shopping excursion. And she looked happy, happier than I'd ever seen her.  
  
Collins took off his sunglasses. "Bond. James Bond."  
  
"And Pussy Galore, in person!" Angel chimed in, taking off the blowtorch that was slung around her shoulders.  
  
"Pussy, you came prepared!" I exclaimed.  
  
"I was a boy scout once," she pointed out. "And a Brownie, until some brat got scared."  
  
I smiled at the thought of Angel as a Brownie. I'd have to ask her for the story later.  
  
"Aha!" Collins tapped me on the shoulder. "Moneypenny, my martini!"  
  
I held out the bottle. "Will bad champagne do?"  
  
"That's shaken, not stirred," Roger instructed me. I'd never seen the James Bond movies, but my boyfriend had mentioned them more than once. I had a feeling he'd make me watch them all sometime soon.  
  
Angel set to work on the padlock as I handed Collins a glass of champagne. "How much time do we have left?" he asked.  
  
I grabbed Roger's left arm and looked at his watch. "Two minutes."  
  
Collins looked around. "Where's everyone else?"  
  
Roger gestured up to the fire escape. "Playing Spiderman."  
  
A minute and a half later, the lock fell off. We flung the door open where we found Mark, Maureen, and Joanne at the bottom of the stairs, just before it struck midnight. In the distance I could hear the cheers of other New Yorkers, who were most likely celebrating in their own homes, who never had been locked out of theirs.  
  
Oh, well. It was New Years, Roger's arm was around my shoulders, and I was feeling like the luckiest girl in the world. Let them have their parties. They didn't have Roger.  
  
The celebration had just gotten underway when everything fell silent. I knew it was him even before I turned around. I hadn't seen him since the evening before, and I sure as hell didn't want to see him now. Instinctively, I shrank back behind Roger.  
  
"I see that you've beaten me to the punch," Benny began. His voice was cool and even, just like it always was, but I shivered slightly.  
  
"How'd you know we'd be here?" Roger demanded.  
  
Benny shrugged. "I had a hunch."  
  
"You're not mad?" Mark asked incredulously. I was just wondering the same thing. I'd have expected him to be pissed as hell, but amazingly enough, he seemed perfectly calm and unruffled.  
  
Benny shook his head. "I'm here to end this war. It's a shame you went and destroyed the door."  
  
Something was weird here. Turning around, after his adamant protests all week that he'd never back down was completely out of character for Benny. "Why the sudden big about-face?" I demanded.  
  
He smiled at me. I flinched slightly. "The credit is yours. You made a good case."  
  
"What case?" Roger cried.  
  
This time he smiled at Roger, who was scowling back at him. "Mimi came to see me, and she had much to say."  
  
"That's not how you put it at all yesterday!" I shouted at him.  
  
"I couldn't stop thinking about the whole mess." Benny shook his head sadly. "Mark, you'll want to get this on film."  
  
Mark sighed. "I guess."  
  
Benny stood up straight and adjusted his jacket. "I regret the unlucky circumstances of the past seven days--"  
  
"Circumstance?" Roger interrupted. "You padlocked our door!"  
  
"And it's with great pleasure on behalf of Cyberarts that I hand you this key," Benny continued, unruffled by Roger's outburst.  
  
Angel rolled her eyes. "Golf claps."  
  
Mark put down his camera and checked the red light. "I had no juice in my battery."  
  
"Reshoot!" Benny snapped.  
  
"I see." Roger's words were dripping with sarcasm. "This is a photo opportunity."  
  
"The benevolent God ushers the poor artists back to their flat," Maureen declared sarcastically. "Were you planning on taking down the barbed wire from the lot too?"  
  
"Anything but that!" Roger exclaimed in mock horror. I elbowed him. The last thing I wanted was for him to make Benny mad.  
  
Benny had slipped into the role of righteous businessman by this point. "Clearing the lot was a safety concern," he said patiently, as if speaking to a group of slow, dull children. "We break ground this month. But you can return."  
  
"That's why you're here with people you hate!" Maureen spat. "Instead of with Muffy at Muffy's estate."  
  
To my surprise, Benny looked almost hurt. "I'd honestly rather be with you tonight, than in Westport--"  
  
"Spare us, old sport, the soundbite!" Roger interrupted furiously.  
  
A wounded expression flickered across Benny's face, quickly replaced by fury. "Mimi, since your ways are so seductive, persuade him not to be so counterproductive!"  
  
"You came on to me!" I shouted back.  
  
"Liar!" Roger yelled. I didn't know if he was referring to Benny or to me.  
  
"Why not tell them what you wore to my place?" Benny insisted.  
  
"I was on my way to work!" I protested.  
  
It was like he hadn't heard a word I said. "Black leather and lace!" He finished, glaring at me. "My desk is a mess, I think I'm still sore--"  
  
"Cause I kicked him and I told him I wasn't his whore!" I fought back furiously.  
  
Benny's eyes had that same hardness they'd had eighteen hours ago, when he'd thrown me onto his desk and ripped my shirt. "Does your boyfriend know who your last boyfriend was?"  
  
I reached out to touch Roger's arm. He recoiled immediately. "I'm not her boyfriend, I don't care what she does!"  
  
His words smacked me across the face and I fell back, subdued, no longer possessing the strength or desire to fight Benny any longer. Tears sprang to my eyes, and Angel, seeing this, put an arm around my shoulder.  
  
"People," she scolded gently. "Is this any way to start a new year? Have compasssion, Benny just lost his cat." She gently squeezed my arm, and went to sit by Benny.  
  
"My dog," Benny corrected her. "But I appreciate that."  
  
She patted his shoulder. "My cat had a fall, and I went through hell."  
  
He nodded in agreement. "It's like losing a--" He broke off with a puzzled expression on his face. "How did you know she fell?"  
  
Angel pasted an innocent expression on her face and slipped off. Collins handed Benny a glass. "Champagne?"  
  
"Don't mind if I do!" Benny smiled and lifted his glass. "To dogs!"  
  
The rest of us followed suit. "No, Benny, to you!"  
  
I took a sip of champagne. Roger still wouldn't look at me.  
  
"Let's make a resolution," Angel proposed.  
  
I lifted my glass. "I'll drink to that."  
  
"Let's always stay friends," Collins added.  
  
Joanne nodded. "Though we may have our disputes--"  
  
"This family tree's got deep roots!" Maureen finished, putting an arm around her girlfriend's waist.  
  
Mark was still behind his damn camera, filming the whole thing. "Friendship is thicker than blood."  
  
Roger shrugged. "That depends."  
  
"Depends on trust!" I shot at him. I'd hurled the words, but I was still nervous and jumpy inside, my eyes pleading for him to look my way.  
  
"Depends on true devotion!" He shouted back. He was looking now, but not with the love and gentleness of the previous week. He was angry, and hurt that I hadn't told him about Benny. I was too, not about Benny, but because Roger couldn't forgive me for something that hadn't been my fault.  
  
"Depends on love," Joanne pointed out, giving me a gentle shove in Roger's direction.  
  
"Depends on not denying emotion," Mark agreed, finally putting down his camera to give Roger a nudge towards me.  
  
Roger shrugged. "Perhaps."  
  
We were still standing several feet away from each other, unable to get any closer. Angel took our arms and gently drew us together. "It's going to be a happy new year," she promised us.  
  
Then she left, giving everyone else a look to follow. Roger and I were left alone outside, him staring up at the sky, me holding my coat tightly around me.  
  
"I'm sorry!" We exclaimed together. That eased the tension a bit, and we were able to smile at each other.  
  
Roger touched my cheek. "Coming?"  
  
I shook my head. "In a minute." I wasn't in the mood for any celebrating tonight. Roger put a hand on my shoulder, and I shrugged it off. "I'm fine. Go."  
  
He kissed me lightly and sprinted inside. I sunk down on the curb, trying not to cry and wondering how my wonderful new relationship could have gone so wrong so quickly.  
  
Kenny materialized out of the darkness. Somehow I wasn't surprised to see him. "Well, well, well, what have we here?"  
  
I hung my head, but took the bag of smack he offered to me. What difference did it make now?  
  
"It's going to be a happy new year." Kenny patted my shoulder. "There, there..." 


	12. 12

Author's Notes:  
  
I never write these before I write the story. I just don't. But I am tonight, because I have no idea how what I'm going to write is going to turn out. This story has been stuck forever, but Elyse asked me to work on it, so I am, for her. And also, I saw Jeremy Kushnier and Saycon Sangbloh in Aida tonight, which flooded me with the desire to write R/m. Considering how infrequently I'm actually inspired for this story, I don't reckon I should pass on this just because I'm tired.  
  
Chapter 12  
  
By the time I finally came inside, everyone had left. I was thankful for that. My body was starting to tremble like it always did when I came down from a high, and I was in no mood to see or talk to anyone. All I wanted to do was pass out in my bed for the next twelve hours and try to make some sense out of this in the morning.  
  
When I reached my bedroom, I saw Roger sprawled out on the bed, fast asleep. I was surprised--I'd thought he would spend the night in the loft, and the next few days as well. I'd thought the last thing he'd want would be to see me tonight. To be honest, I wasn't sure if I wanted to see him either. His hateful words still rang in my ears, shouting to Benny and the world that he cared nothing for me. Yes, he'd apologized, and yes, I still liked him in spite of myself, but I didn't know if I was up to facing him again tonight.  
  
I tiptoed into the darkened room. I'd grab a blanket from the foot of the bed, then spend the night on the couch. On my way out, that loose board by the dresser creaked, and Roger's eyes flew open.  
  
"Sorry," I whispered, not knowing what else to say. "I didn't mean to wake you."  
  
"Hey," he whispered, patting the bed beside him. "Come here for a minute."  
  
I folded the blanket over my arm and sat gingerly on the bed.  
  
Roger placed a tenative hand on my arm. I flinched slightly, and he withdrew his touch. "I'm sorry."  
  
I didn't know if he meant he was sorry for that or for what happened earlier that night or for something I didn't even know about. "It's okay."  
  
"No, it's not okay," he insisted. "I don't know what got into me, Mimi. I'd give anything to take back what I said."  
  
Tears filled my eyes. "You really hurt me, Roger."  
  
"I know," he whispered, placing his hand on my arm again. This time, I didn't pull away. "I don't know how to explain it. I'm not used to having something good in my life."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean whenever something good happens to me, I always find a way to fuck it up," Roger continued. "Sometimes I think I do it on purpose, so I can hurt people before they can hurt me."  
  
"Well, it sure worked this time," I said bitterly. I didn't know why I was being so hard on him. Of course I was still mad, but not as much as earlier. All I felt now was exhaustion, shame, and a funny kind of sadness.  
  
"I know," he repeated. "If you want me to leave, I'll understand."  
  
I shook my head dumbly. "Why would I want you to leave?"  
  
Roger sighed. "Mimi, to be honest, I don't deserve you. Save yourself while you still can."  
  
"Dammit, Roger, stop talking like that!" I exploded. "I'm far from what you'd call perfect."  
  
"You don't understand," he insisted. "I destroy people! I ruined April's life, and I'll ruin yours if you give me the chance!"  
  
"How did you ruin April's life?" I asked. "You've never talked about her since we met."  
  
Roger turned his face away. "Trust me, Mimi. You don't want to hear about that."  
  
"If we can't talk to each other, then what kind of relationship are we going to have?" I demanded.  
  
"All right, fine!" He shouted. "April was a student at NYU. I met her in the Village while I was playing my guitar. She was the sweetest girl I'd ever met, and I never told her I did smack. Then I gave her HIV, and she killed herself." His tearful eyes looked pleadingly at me. "It was all my fault, Mimi."  
  
I moved closer to him and cradled his head in my arms. "I'm so sorry, Roger." I didn't know what else to say. What else was there to say? How could I possibly take away even the tiniest bit of the guilt and anguish that he had to be carrying around?  
  
His body shook as he cried. I held onto him tightly, thinking to myself how fragile and vulnerable he seemed. After a long time, he pulled away and wiped his face with the back of his hand. "Sorry," he mumbled, embarrassed, I think, to have cried like that in front of me.  
  
I slipped my hand into his. "It's all right now, Roger."  
  
He stared at me with pleading eyes. "Promise you won't leave me?"  
  
"I won't leave you," I promised. "Can you get some sleep now?"  
  
He nodded and let me tuck the covers around him. When he was settled in, I curled up next to him and rested my chin on his shoulder. He put his arms around my waist, and we fell asleep together.  
  
I spent the next three weeks without seeing Benny. Then suddenly there he was, waiting outside the Cat Scratch club after closing, just like he did when we were dating. Our eyes met briefly, and I tore my gaze away, fixating on a crack in the sidewalk. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Mimi, I need to talk to you," he insisted urgently. "Do you have a minute?"  
  
I wrapped my jacket around me. "Benny, there's nothing to say."  
  
"Yes, there is." He moved to grip my arm, then thought better of it. "My behavior was completely out of line. I owe you an apology."  
  
"Do you think you can just apologize and everything's going to be okay again?" I demanded. "If you care at all about me, Benny, then leave me alone. Please."  
  
"Mimi, I feel like hell about that night," Benny continued. "And about what I said to Roger."  
  
"Yeah, you should." I turned around and started walking away. He caught up with me quickly.  
  
"Mimi," he pleaded. "I don't know what to say to show you how sorry I am."  
  
I stared ahead and continued walking. Benny continued to follow me, all the way back to the apartment building. I stopped outside the front door, afraid Roger would see us together and assume the worst.  
  
"All right, Benny," I sighed. "What's it going to take to get you out of here?"  
  
"Mimi, I still care about you," he said quietly. "I hate knowing that I've done this to you."  
  
He looked like a little boy when he said that, strangely like how Roger had the night when he told me about April. Yes, he'd been an ass, but I knew he cared about me, and I knew he was sorry. April couldn't tell Roger she forgave him, but I could tell Benny.  
  
"It's all right, Benny," I said quietly, stroking the sleeve of his leather jacket. "It's okay. I forgive you."  
  
"Oh, Mimi." He wrapped his arms around me. "Mimi, I'm so sorry."  
  
"I know, Benny," I whispered. "It's okay."  
  
He kissed me when he let me go, a light, friendly peck on the cheek. "Take care of yourself, okay?"  
  
I managed a small smile. "I will."  
  
When I got upstairs, I found Roger in my apartment, throwing items of his clothing into a laundry bag. "Roger, baby, didn't we just do our wash on Sunday?"  
  
"I know," he answered, throwing in another shirt. "I'm sleeping up in the loft tonight. Don't wait up for me."  
  
"Roger, what are you talking about?" I asked. "What brought this about?"  
  
"I saw you with Benny!" He shouted. "What did you let him do to you?"  
  
"We didn't do anything!" I yelled back. "Why don't you trust me?"  
  
"Why should I?" He demanded. "How long has this been going on?"  
  
I collapsed into a chair and pressed my palms to my forehead. "Roger, I'm really not in the mood for this."  
  
He shrugged. "Then far be it from me to drag it out." He slung his bag over his shoulder and strode out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. 


	13. 13

Author's Notes: 

Ack! Oh, um, that's right, no one's read this chapter yet. Uh, yeah. Thanks for the reviews, because they did inspire me to write this. Hope this doesn't disappoint. 

Chapter 13 

It was three oh four in the morning when my phone rang. I rolled over and reached out for the receiver, accidentally knocking it onto the floor. "Shit," I mumbled, fumbling around in the darkness for it. Who on earth could be calling me at this hour? 

Not like I'd been sleeping anyhow. Roger had moved out of my apartment, again, after a fight last week, and I'd been sleeping miserably ever since. What was wrong with me? I'd never had this much trouble after a breakup. I wasn't like some of my girlfriends, who always needed to be with a man in order to feel complete. I prided myself on my independence. And now here I was, alone and wretched. 

My fingers finally grasped the receiver. "Hello?" 

"Mimi?" Collins' deep voice rumbled through the phone. "Did I wake you?" 

"Oh, no," I assured him, sitting up and yawning. "What is it?" 

"It's Angel," he said, and I felt my stomach drop to my knees. I listened numbly as he rattled off the name of the hospital, and the room, and the doctor said she should be fine, but there was always a chance she wouldn't and Angel had been asking for me. 

"I'll be right there," I told him, dragging myself out of bed and over to my closet. "Tell her I'll be there before she knows it." 

The first clothes I found were a pair of sweatpants and one of Roger's old T-shirts that he'd left the last time he stayed over. I yanked it over my head, no longer caring about him or our fight or anything else in my stupid little life except Angel. Just let her be okay, I pleaded, and I'll do anything. 

The hospital smelled of disinfectant, and I couldn't keep from trembling. Was this how it was going to end for Angel? Was this how it was going to end for me? 

She was in a private room on the eighth floor, looking so tiny and fragile lying in that bed, without her wig or any of her bright, beautiful clothes that I always associated her with. She looked so young, no older than fifteen or sixteen. Collins was sitting in the chair beside her bed, holding her hand tightly between his. 

I knocked quietly on the door, and his eyes rose to meet mine. 

"Hi," I whispered. "How's she doing?" 

Collins looked down at Angel, a loving smile spreading across his face. I felt a pang of jealousy. Would Roger ever look at me like that? Would anyone? 

"She's sleeping," he whispered. "But she's doing all right." 

I sat down on the other side of Angel, picking at a stray thread on my sweatpants. "I was really worried when you called." 

"I normally grade papers at my office," Collins continued, smoothing Angel's hair. "Tonight I decided to come home early. When I got there, I found her lying on the floor unconscious." 

He told me about how he'd called 911, how it took half an hour for the ambulance to arrive, and how while Angel would be fine in the meantime, her immune system was beginning to shut itself down. 

"I'm sorry," he apologized, taking his glasses off and wiping his eyes. "I shouldn't be making you worry about this." 

"Don't be," I insisted. "Angel's my friend. I have to worry about her." 

Collins managed a small smile. "She loves you a lot, you know. She's always talking about you." 

"Talking about who?" Angel mumbled as her eyes fluttered open. A smile spread across her face and she squeezed Collins' hand. "Hi, honey." 

"Hello," he whispered hoarsely, dropping a kiss on her forehead. "Someone's here to see you." 

Angel turned her head back in my direction and smiled warmly. "Mimi. You came." 

"Of course I came," I insisted, reaching for her other hand. "I came as soon as I heard." 

She looked embarrassed. "You shouldn't have. You need your sleep." 

"Don't be ridiculous," I scolded her. "What kind of friend would I be if I didn't come?" 

Collins shot a glance at me. "I'm going to get some coffee," he informed us. "I'll be back in a few minutes." 

I watched him leave, then turned back to Angel. "How are you feeling?" 

"I'm all right," she insisted. "Everyone's making a big fuss over nothing." 

"Still," I insisted. "I don't want you taking any chances. I need you too much." 

Angel's hand covered mine. "Are you all right?" 

I smiled as brightly as I could. "I'm fine, really. A little tired, but fine." 

"Mimi," she scolded me gently. "I know you better than that. What's wrong?" 

I hated myself for starting to cry then. Angel was going through so much herself, I told herself. She didn't need to deal with my issues as well. And here I was, bawling like a baby and telling her every trouble that Roger and I had had over the last month. 

"I'm sorry," I finally finished. "You didn't need to hear all that." 

"Oh, Mimi," she sighed, patting my arm. "Roger loves you so much." 

"I don't think he does," I sniffled, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "Why would he say all those things if he loved me?" 

"Love isn't always perfect," she said softly. "But that doesn't make it any less wonderful." 

"I don't know about that," I sighed. "Why can't this be easy?" 

"The best things in life never are," she told me "That's what makes them the best." 

"I hope I'll understand some day," I whispered, propping my chin in my hands. 

"Mimi?" She struggled to raise her head. 

"Hey, take it easy," I told her, helping her settle back down onto the bed. "You need your rest." 

"Promise me," she whispered. "Promise you'll take care of yourself." 

"Angel, you're not dying," I insisted. "Don't talk like that." 

"Mimi, I'm not going to be around forever," she insisted. "We both know that." 

I looked away so she couldn't see the tears in my eyes. "I don't know what I'm going to do without you," I whispered. 

"Well, I'm not going anywhere for awhile," she tried to smile. "And when I do, I promise I'll still look after you from wherever I am." 

I took her hand in mine and pressed it to my cheek. "I love you, Angel." 

She brushed my cheek with her finger. "I love you too, Mimi." 

The summer passed. Roger and I reconciled, broke up, got back together, and broke up yet again. Early in the morning on Halloween, I got another phone call from Collins. Angel was gone. 


	14. 14

Author's Notes: 

Angel's funeral. Tons of angst, so be warned. 

Chapter 14 

The day seemed so ordinary. It was warm for October, and ordinarily, I would have been happy not to wear a heavy jacket and thick boots outside. But today, I would rather it had been pouring rain, or a raging blizzard. It just didn't seem right for the sun to be shining when Angel was dead. 

We all gathered at the church, united in our grief. Roger and I had just broken up, but he hugged me when I entered. "I'm sorry," he whispered. 

I nodded and stepped away. He meant well, but I couldn't deal with him right then. Angel's death was more than enough for me at the moment. If I thought about Roger as well, I was going to start crying right there in front of everyone. 

It was a simple service. We sang some of Angel's favorite songs, and then we went around and said a few words about her. I went first, and told about how we met, and the skinhead punk who she put in his place. Mark talked about the time she gave directions to a group of tourists who had never seen a drag queen before. One by one, my friends remembered Angel, and as they went along, I got closer and closer to breaking down. 

I didn't want to cry. Angel would have wanted us to celebrate her life, not mourn her death. It was how she lived every day, not knowing how many days she had left. "Don't waste your life worrying about tomorrow," she always told me. "Live for today." 

It was what she had taught me from the time I met her, two years ago, to the last time I saw her. It had been a mere two days ago, and although she had wasted away to practically nothing, and she was so weak and feeble, I had never seen her happier. "I'm safe and warm," she had told me. "I have a roof over my head, food on my plate. And I have someone to love me. I couldn't be more blessed than I already am." 

That was what I always admired about Angel. How she could find the good in anything, even when she was staring death in the face. 

"You're not even the tiniest bit upset about what happened? Everything you won't get to do?" I had to ask. Collins glared at me, and if Angel hadn't shushed him, I'm sure he would have given me some sort of reprimand. 

"Of course I think about everything I'll miss out on," Angel replied quietly. "But I remind myself that most people spend their entire lives without actually living. I'm happy, Mimi. Not everyone can say that." 

She got tired not long after that, and I had to go. I gently hugged her goodbye, afraid I would crush her frail body in my arms. Yesterday morning, I got a phone call from Collins. Angel had died in her sleep the night before. "I was with her the whole time," Collins assured me. "She never felt any pain." 

Maureen was talking now. "You always said how lucky we were to be friends," she said, glancing over at Angel's casket. "But it was us, babe, who were the lucky ones." 

I dropped my head, helpless against the tears that were rolling down my cheeks. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Roger watching me from the next row over. I wanted him here with me. I wanted him to hold me. Tomorrow he could go on being mad at me, but right now, Angel was dead, and I needed him. 

Our eyes met, and Roger looked away. I slumped back in my seat. Up front, Maureen had sat down and now Collins was talking, his words beautiful and full of emotion and making me cry even harder. 

Someone sat down beside me. I looked up. Benny. He gently put his arm around me and I leaned against him, sobbing into his shoulder. Roger glared at us. Benny glared back. I kept on crying. 

How was I supposed to do this? The only things that had kept me going this long had been Angel and Roger, and now I'd lost both of them. Someday, sooner than later, it would be me up in that casket. Would I have my friends around me when I died, like Angel had had? Would Roger stand up in front of everyone like Collins was now, tears running down his cheeks as he told the world that loving me was the best thing that ever happened to him? Of course he wouldn't. Not Roger. Not for me. 

People began filing out of the church as the service ended. I remained huddling on my bench, not wanting to move, not wanting to go out and face a world without Angel. 

"Mimi," Benny urged softly. "Come on. It's time to go." 

"I can't do this without her, Benny," I whispered. "I just can't." 

He took out his handkerchief and wiped my face. "Mimi, honey, Angel wouldn't want to see you like this." 

I glanced up at the casket, and nodded. "She wouldn't. You're right." 

"Come on," he urged, gently tugging me to my feet. "Let's get out of here." 

"Can I say goodbye first?" I pleaded. 

"Of course," he whispered, squeezing my shoulder and dropping a light kiss on my forehead. Ordinarily I would have been furious at him for taking a liberty like that, but it was comforting now. At least someone cared about me. I thought about Roger rushing out of the church, shooting a dirty look at me and Benny on the way, and felt the tears flood my eyes again. 

I approached the coffin slowly, pausing for a moment to yank a rose out of one of the flower bouquets scattered about the church. "Hey," I whispered, gently placing the flower on top of the wooden box. "Hi, babe." 

Why was I crying? That wasn't Angel in that box. Angel was somewhere else, somewhere better than this. Maybe she was a dancer at last, whirling around heaven in her pink tutu. A small smile flickered across my lips, then died as suddenly as it had come. "Angel, help me," I whimpered. "I'm so lost without you." 

If this had been a movie, I would have felt a light breeze, or a warm glow, been given some indication that my best friend was still there with me. But there was nothing except the cool feel of the wood beneath my hands, the faint scent of carnations, and the awful realization that I had lost the two people who had meant the most to me. Sobs shook my body, tears ran down my face, and I felt Benny come up behind me and wrap me in his arms. 

"It's okay," he whispered in my ear, his breath warm on my neck. "It's okay, Mimi. I'm not going to let anything happen to you." 

"I can't live without her, Benny," I sobbed into his shoulder. "I can't." 

"I know you're hurting," he said softly, rubbing my shoulder gently. "You've lost someone special to you and you don't know how you can make it in a world without them. But you're not alone, Mimi. I'm here, and I'll always be here as long as you need me to be." 

I wanted to believe that that would be enough. I knew Benny meant well, and I knew he cared for me. He did, in his own way. But what I needed and what Benny could give me were two different things. Then again, Benny was all I had, now that Angel was gone. In spite of everything, he did love me, and wasn't that what I needed right now? 

"Thank you, Benny," I whispered, drawing back slightly and wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. 

He touched my cheek gently. "I'll take care of you, Mimi," he promised. "And you won't have to worry anymore about Roger getting upset." 

"What do you mean?" I asked, fishing a kleenex out of my pocket and blowing my nose. 

Benny bit his lip nervously. "Oh, God. You haven't heard?" 

"Heard what?" I demanded. "Benny, what is it?" 

"Roger's leaving," he blurted out. "For Santa Fe. He's going tonight, right after it gets dark." 

"What?" I repeated, still unable to comprehend what he was telling me. Roger couldn't be leaving. Roger would have told me. Wouldn't he? Or maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he didn't want me to cause a scene. Or maybe he thought I wouldn't care. Maybe he didn't care. 

"I heard from Mark that he sold his guitar last week," Benny continued, oblivious to my growing panic. "Apparently he bought a car and he wants to leave before the snow starts." 

"Uh, yeah," I stuttered, unable to come up with a better response. "Benny, will you excuse me a moment?" 

He caught my arm as I started out of the church. "You're going to see him, aren't you?" 

"I have to talk to him," I pleaded. "Benny, please." 

"All right," he gave in. "But I'm coming with you." 

I knew this wouldn't be a good idea. I also knew I had no choice. I left the church, Benny trailing behind me, and started for the loft. 


	15. 15

Author's Notes: 

Not a lot to say. This section inspired by Goodbye, Love. Read and review. Thanks to Lola, Becca, and Elyse for their comments and encouragement. You guys rock. 

Chapter 15 

When I got to the loft, the door was partially ajar. I thought about knocking, then pushed it open. Honestly, Mimi, the guy's about to take off for the other side of the country without even telling you, and you're worried about being rude? 

Roger looked startled at my sudden appearance. "Oh, hey." 

Oh, hey? Was that all he could say? If he couldn't talk, then I would. "I heard you sold your guitar," I blurted out. Why was I so upset about this? It was only a guitar, after all. Just a few pieces of wood that Roger used to strum as he sang to me, and if I thought about this any more, I was going to be crying again. 

Roger nodded. Dammit, why was he being so nonchalant about this? Didn't he care that this was breaking my heart? "I'm leaving for Santa Fe. Tonight." The door opened again, and Benny entered the apartment. Roger glared at him. "It's true you're with this yuppie scum?" 

Benny put an arm around my shoulders and glared back. "You said you'd never speak to him again." 

I pulled away, angry that he'd taken a liberty like that right in front of Roger. "Not now," I snapped. 

"Who says that you have any say in who she says things to?" Maureen demanded. I hadn't seen her in the loft, but now I looked at her gratefully, glad there was one person at least on my side. 

"Who says that you should stick your nose in other people's business?" Joanne shot at her. 

"Yeah, really!" Roger yelled at Benny. "Who the fuck gave you the right to tell you Mimi I was leaving?" 

"Maybe I wouldn't have had to if you'd told her yourself!" Benny shouted back. 

"Benny, I can take care of myself," I snapped at him. 

Roger rolled his eyes. "Bullshit. Every time anything goes wrong, you go running to Benny." 

"Maybe I wouldn't have had to if you'd been there instead!" I screamed. "You know how much Angel meant to me! I've lost Angel and I've lost you and what else do I have?" 

By this time everything had erupted into a huge screaming match. Roger was yelling at Benny, I was yelling at Roger, Maureen and Joanne were bickering, and poor Mark was desperately trying to make peace between all of us. I was the first one to see Collins standing in the doorway and fell silent. So did Roger and Benny, after a few moments. Joanne followed suit. Maureen continued shouting until Mark nudged her and whispered something in her ear. 

I felt guilty when I saw the expression on Collins' face. He looked so...weary, I suppose was the best word for it. Like he'd lost the most important thing in his life, and after that, everything else just didn't matter. Boy, did I know how that felt. 

He shook his head sadly. "You all promised you'd be cool today," he said quietly. "You said you wouldn't fight." 

I stared at my feet. "I'm sorry, Collins." 

He waved my apology away. "I can't believe she's gone. And now you're going--" He nodded in Roger's direction. "I never thought we'd end up like this." 

I'd had just about enough of this. I hadn't been feeling so hot lately, and although that could have been because of my breakup with Roger, and Angel getting sicker, it could also mean that my time was running out. And if that was the case, then I'd be damned if I was going to spend my remaining time pleading with a man who no longer loved me. 

I slipped out of the loft at the first available opportunity, Benny trailing along behind me. He held door open for me, and when he saw me shivering in the cold, offered me his jacket. 

I touched his arm. "Benny, you've been very sweet, and please don't take this the wrong way, but I think I want to be alone for awhile." 

"All right," he agreed. "But you take care of yourself, all right?" 

At this point, I wouldn't have cared if I was run over by the next bus, but I could tell that Benny wasn't about to leave me alone if he didn't think I was going to be all right. "I'll be fine, Benny," I assured him, my voice filled with hope that I didn't feel. "Really." 

He left me then, although not before insisting that I find him if I needed anything. I trudged down Avenue A, holding my coat tightly around me and wondering if the shivering was from the cold, or from something else. I hadn't been taking my AZT lately, not since things had started to sour with Roger. I could go to Life Support, but I didn't want to now that Angel was gone. 

Okay, so it wasn't just me. It was really cold out here. I knew I should go back to my apartment, but I didn't feel like returning to the place Roger and I had spent so many nights together. I didn't want to think about him. I didn't want to think about him leaving me. Not like that. Not with our last words fighting, as always, about Benny. 

I went back to my building, and began climbing the stairs. When I got to the third floor, I could have sworn I heard Roger's voice. It couldn't have been. Roger was on his way to Santa Fe. But there it was again. I crept up the stairs and crouched next to the door of the loft. 

"Roger, I don't get it," Mark was saying. "I know you still love her, so why are you leaving?" 

"Dammit, Mark, don't do this!" Roger exploded. "You know perfectly well why I can't stay." 

"She loves you, Roger," Mark insisted. "Are you really jealous of Benny, or are you just afraid that she's getting weak?" 

"Mimi did look pale," Roger admitted. 

I tried to swallow past the lump in my throat. Another tear trickled down my cheek. In the loft, Mark and Roger were still talking. 

"She's running out of time, Roger! And if you're in Santa Fe when that happens, you'll never forgive yourself!" 

"Fuck you, Mark," Roger spat. "Who are you to tell me what to do?" 

And off they went, Roger accusing Mark of hiding in his work, Mark shooting back that at least he was the one of them to survive. I had just started to creep back to my apartment when the door flew open, and I found myself face to face with Roger. 

He looked startled to see me. Then his eyes widened in horror. "You heard?" 

I hated that he was leaving. I hated that I was still standing here, and I would *not* cry in front of him again. "Every word." 

Roger began to reach out to me, then pulled his hand back.. "Mimi, I--" 

"You don't want baggage without lifetime guarantee," I interrupted. "You don't want to watch me die." 

"Please, Mimi--" 

I took a step closer to him, put a tenative hand on his arm. "Roger, don't go," I pleaded. "It's us. We can make this work." 

He pulled away as if I'd burned him. "Mimi, don't do this." 

"I love you," I pleaded. "Roger, please, don't leave me." 

"I have to." I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or to himself. "I have to find my song--" 

"It's right here, Roger," I begged. "It's with us. Right now." I wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed my head against the back of his shoulder. He tore away and ran from the room. 

Somehow Benny was here, trying to put his arm around me. I yanked away furiously. "Please don't touch me, understand I'm scared," I rambled, choking on the words as they spilled out of my mouth. "I need a place to go away.  


"I know a place, a clinic," Mark offered. 

"A rehab," Collins echoed. Was he here too? Where did all these people come from? Why were they here and Roger wasn't? 

"Maybe," I sniffed, casting a desperate look at Benny. "Could you?" 

He nodded. "I'll pay." 

Benny would pay. I could get clean, start my life over again, and why wasn't any of this making me feel any better? Because I didn't want a new life without Roger there with me. He had left me because he couldn't forgive me for what I hadn't done, and because he didn't want to watch me die and all I wanted was to talk to Angel except Angel was dead. 

I slumped against the wall down to the floor. There was something on the floor--one of Roger's shirts. Possibly one of the ones I'd thrown out the window as a joke on occasion when he took too long in the shower. It smelled like him. I clutched it to my chest and let the tears drop down onto it. 

"Goodbye, love," I whispered. 


	16. 16

Chapter 16 

I was supposed to meet Benny outside at nine o'clock the next morning. He was going to take me to the clinic, some psychiatric hospital in Connecticut that specialized in substance abuse, he'd told me. One of the best in the country, and he'd had a hell of a time getting me in. I had to be waiting by the curb with everything I was taking with me when he came to pick me up. It was the least I could do, after all the trouble he'd gone to. 

I knew he'd worked hard to arrange this for me, and I knew that this was the logical solution for me. I could take some time away from everything, wean myself off heroin, pick up the pieces of my life and go on from there. This was what I'd wanted, wasn't it? 

Maybe it was what I'd wanted yesterday, or a week ago, but it wasn't what I wanted now. What I did want, I had no clue, but this certainly wasn't it. I didn't want to leave New York. I didn't want to go into any hospital where I didn't know anyone and try to quit the one thing that was holding me together. When I shot up, I didn't have to feel anything. When I didn't have that, the pain was more than I could stand. 

But still...I'd promised to give this a chance. After all, what I'd been doing certainly hadn't done much for me. It was obvious by now, my way didn't work. What harm would it do to try Mark's way, or Benny's way? 

I was outside promptly at eight fifty-five with my tiny suitcase, shivering in my coat which was getting far too thin for the cold November weather. Five minutes later, the bell at the old church chimed nine times. It was nine o'clock, and there was no sign of Benny. 

I stood waiting in the cold, unwilling to believe that he wasn't going to come. He just had to come. Benny was all I had left, and he wouldn't let me down. After two hours, I gave up. I trudged back up the stairs, checked my answering machine for any messages (there weren't any) and chucked my suitcase back under my bed before beginning the bitterly cold walk to Benny's office. 

When I arrived, his secretary wouldn't let me past the front desk. She coolly informed me that Mr. Coffin was taking an extended leave of absence, and wouldn't be back for some time. No, she didn't know when that would be. No, he hadn't left any messages for me. 

That was it. My last chance was gone. I started to leave, then turned when I heard the secretary call my name. 

"By the way, Miss Marquez," she informed me, "our records show that you're two months late with your rent. If you cannot pay the balance within three days, we'll be forced to evict you." 

Benny had promised me that he'd take care of that, that he'd give me the time I needed to pay what I owed. But Benny wasn't here anymore, and might not ever be back. My last chance was gone. 

When I got home, I repacked my suitcase, packing everything I couldn't bear to leave behind. When I left again, it was for good. 

I don't remember a lot of what happened over the next six weeks. I recall staying with some girlfriends from work, going out and getting shot up, and waking up the next morning without any trace of my money or my suitcase. Wearing out my welcome after two weeks, and curling up on a street grate at night in a desperate attempt to keep warm until morning came. Halfway through November, I caught a bad cold, and developed a chest-shaking cough. I was tired all the time. I felt myself becoming weaker every day. 

I lost track of the days soon after I started living on the streets. Every day was an ordeal in itself, a struggle to survive. The winter was a cold one, and I knew I couldn't survive it, not like this, not in the shape I was in. And I didn't care. Nothing mattered to me anymore. I'd lost everyone I loved, and now I was all alone. 

On one particularly cold day, I was jolted awake just before dawn by a hacking cough. As I watched the light creep over the skyscrapers and struggled to breathe, I realized that this was the day I was going to die. 

I was very weak by this point, but over the course of the day, I managed to creep from Greenwich Village, where I'd been living, to the East Village. I wanted to be there when my time came. I wanted to be in the park, where Roger and I had gone on those summer nights to watch the stars and make love. I wanted to feel him with me one last time before I died. 

It was dark by the time I got there. I crawled onto an empty bench and collapsed, not feeling the cold anymore. This was how I could go. The temperature would drop, and I would fall asleep and not wake up. I could be with Angel again. I saw her in my mind, dressed in all her finery, heard her soothing voice, felt her hand touch mine. "I'm coming, Angel," I mumbled. "I'll be there soon." 

Someone was shaking me. Someone was saying my name. Angel? No, not Angel, a woman's voice. I knew who it was but I couldn't recognize her. She had someone else with her. Both of them looked worried. 

"Mimi...okay, honey?" The first one said. "Been so worried..." 

I shook my head. "Don't know...don't know..." 

"Don't...recognize me?" She asked, looking even more worried than before. "Mark's friend...Maureen." 

My eyes widened. "Maureen?" 

"Shhh," she whispered, smoothing my hair. "Get...to a doctor..." 

I shook my head. The effort made me dizzy. "No doctor," I insisted. "Roger." 

Maureen and her companion exchanged a glance. I tugged on her coat sleeve. "Please," I whispered. "Roger." 

They exchanged another look, and nodded. Together they lifted me off the bench and carried me across the park. I was exhausted by this point, nodding off every few seconds, then startling awake with a jolt. When we got to the apartment building, Mark came down and took me from them, carrying me gently up the stairs. When we got into the loft, the first thing I saw was a pair of anxious, fearful brown eyes. 

Roger's eyes. 

He clasped my hand in his, and wouldn't let go as Mark carried me over to the table and gently laid me down. "Got a light?" I whispered. "I know you..." His hand was trembling against my cheek. "You're shivering." 

Maureen was explaining to Mark how she'd found me. I didn't care about. All I cared about was Roger. He was taking off his jacket, and tucking around me, touching my face, smoothing back my hair. He glanced over at Mark, gestured for him to bring something. "We need some heat." 

My teeth were chattering in spite of myself. Even though I had Roger's jacket spread on top of me, and Roger's hands around mine, I couldn't seem to stop. "I'm shivering." 

Mark tried to smile at me. "We can buy some wood, and something to eat..." 

"I'm afraid she needs more than heat," a deep voice stated. Collins. Was he here too? 

"I heard that," I called weakly. 

"Collins will call for a doctor, honey," Maureen tried to assure me. 

I shook my head, and my hair fell back into my eyes. "Don't waste your money on me..." 

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Collins dialing the phone. My shivering became more violent. "Cold, cold..." 

Roger's hands tightened around mine. I looked pleadingly into his eyes. "Would you light my candle?" 

"Oh, yes," he breathed. "Find a candle..." 

I tried to squeeze his hand. "I should tell you..." 

He stroked my cheek gently. My skin felt warm where he touched me, but ice cold everywhere else. "I should tell you..." 

"I should tell you," I continued, straining from the effort of talking. "Benny wasn't any--" 

He put a finger to my lips. "I know. I should tell you why I left. It wasn't because I didn't--" 

I shook my head. "I know." What use was it to be saying all these things now? We both knew them already. There was only one thing left I wanted to say to Roger now. "I love you." 

He looked like he was about to cry as he kissed my cheek. "Who do you think you are?" He demanded, his voice sounding dangerously close to tears. "Hold on, there's something you should hear. It isn't much, but it took all year." 

I would have laughed at his talking in rhyme again, but I didn't have the energy anymore. Mark handed him his guitar, and he began to play. The song was slow and beautiful and it made me want to close my eyes and slip into the sleep that would engulf me at any moment. 

My body felt lighter, and I slipped to the floor, amazed that no one had noticed. When I looked back, I saw they were still all clustered around Roger, who continued to play. Tears were springing to my eyes, and I had to wipe them back. I was going to miss them all so much. 

Oddly enough, death wasn't the frightening demon I'd been running from ever since I got my HIV results. It had been so simple, so painless. Was this all there was to it? Turning around, I saw a tunnel where the door to Roger's room had been only moments before. I knew what I had to do. I took one last look at my friends, blew Roger a kiss, and started down the tunnel to the light near the end. 

I could hear a humming noise from the light as I walked, and a few notes of Roger's song behind me. He'd finally found his song, after all this time. He was going to be all right, he just had to be. And I'd be waiting for him when he came to join me. 

"You're not giving up that easy, are you?" A gentle voice chided me. "That's not the Mimi I know." 

I stared at her in astonishment. She hadn't been there a second ago, and yet here she was, looking like she'd never been sick a day in her life. She was wearing the skirt I'd given her for her birthday, and a blouse she'd gotten on one of our shopping trips. Her eyes were bright and alert, and she had reached out her arms and was hugging me. 

She even smelled the same, like that bottle of perfume Collins had gotten her for their six month anniversary. I hugged her tightly, burying my face in the soft silk scarf she had around her neck. "God, Angel, I've missed you so much." 

"And I've missed you," she replied. "But that doesn't mean I wanted to see you here quite yet." 

"Angel, it's over," I pleaded. "There's nothing left for me back there." 

"Mimi Marquez, how can you say that?" She scolded me. "Turn around, girlfriend, and listen to that boy's song! And then you try to tell me that you have nothing left." 

Roger's voice sounded a little stronger now. "You were the song all along, and before the song dies," he sang as tears dripped down my face. "I should tell you I've always loved you." He took a breath and finished in a shaky whisper. "You can see it in my eyes." 

I turned back to Angel. "You're right," I whispered. "I have to go back, don't I?" 

"You do that," she agreed, giving me a gentle nudge on my way. "Don't you worry, I'll be right here waiting for you." When I turned back to look at her, she was gone. 

By the time I got out of the tunnel, Roger had finished playing, and was cradling my lifeless body to him. "Hold on, baby," I whispered to him. "I'm coming." 

I climbed back onto the table and laid down. After a great deal of effort, I managed to open my eyes. "I jumped over the moon," I whispered. 

Roger turned to me and was staring in shock. "What?" 

I sat up. "A leap of mooooooo..." 

"She's back," Joanne gasped. 

"I was in a tunnel," I continued. The words were falling over themselves as I talked. "Headed for this warm, white light--" 

"Oh my God," Maureen breathed. 

"And I swear," I continued, looking around at everyone, Mark, Roger, Maureen and Joanne, Collins--"Angel was there. And she looked GOOD. And she said," I turned to look at Roger, "'Turn around girlfriend, and listen to that boy's song.'" 

Collins felt my forehead. "She's drenched." 

"Her fever's breaking," Maureen added. 

"There is no future," Mark reflected. "There is no past..." 

"Thank God this moment's not the last," Roger agreed, drawing me to him. 

I hugged him tightly. "You brought me back," I whispered. "Thank you." 

"I'm not ever going to let you go," he promised. "I couldn't stand to lose you again." 

I rested my head against his shoulder. "I love you, Roger Davis," I told him. 

"And I love you too, Mimi Marquez," he replied. "More than I ever knew." 

"Hey, guys," Mark pointed out, nodding toward the clock which had just struck midnight. "It's Christmas." 

"Christmas," I breathed, hugging Roger again. "I didn't know it was Christmas." 

"I think this is the best one ever," he told me. "I got the best gift I ever could have gotten." 

I kissed him because I didn't know how to tell him what I was feeling at that moment. I'd died and come back, Roger had left for Santa Fe and come back, and now here we were together again. He'd found his song, and I'd found the happiness I'd been looking for all my life. My life had come crashing down, but it had been fixed, with friends, with luck, and patience, and love. 

I wasn't broken anymore. 

Fin 

A/N: Thank you SO much to everyone who reviewed this. If it wasn't for you, I would have abandoned this project a long time ago. Your words of encouragement mean more than I could possibly say, so once again, thank you. 

Special thanks goes out to my Rentfic buddies for all your help and encouragement. 

I have a new story started that I'll be posting soon, so keep an eye out for that! 


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